In His Skin
by LadyFangs
Summary: She slept on through the night, even as he left.  He only looked back once as he walked out of the door. And when she awoke in the morning, she found a diamond choker wrapped around her neck, and an angry, red scratch on her breast. But he was gone...
1. Chapter 1

**In His Skin**

**AquaSoulSis aka LadyFangs**

She was wrapped around him, writhing, her body moving to the rhythm he set as he controlled her pleasure- how much, and when.

He loved the way her tightness clenched around his erection, warm, and wet…deep- letting him go as far and as hard as he pleased.

She craved him. Her fingernails raking down his chest, his back- he liked it. Liked the feel of knowing he gave her pleasure- the whimper when he pushed too hard- the sting of her bite on his neck- the sweat… the _smell_.

He rolled her over onto her back and pushed her legs open wider to accompany him. She moaned as he pulled out of her- the sound so deep and urgent, he felt her need as acutely as his own. It was a momentary pause in their consummation - so he could admire.

She spread before him, completely open, chest heaving as she tried to muffle her pants.

He thought she was beautiful. She turned away from him, exposing the long, curves of her neck- a place he wanted to put his mouth.

He hovered over her, reveling in the satisfaction that his larger form dwarfed hers, before lowering himself to feel her hardened nipples against his skin.

His tongue slid against the smooth curve of her neck, eliciting a soft groan from her lips as he tasted the salty-sweetness of perspiration that illuminated her brown skin.

"Say my name," he breathed as he began working his way down, down. Rough, calloused hands massaged soft breasts as his lips skirted across the smooth firm skin of her belly.

He could feel the sting of her fingernails against his shoulders as she gripped him. He slipped an arm under her back when she arched into his mouth in orgasm as his he tasted her.

"_Victor!"_

She cried out as she came in his mouth.

**.**

**.**

She lay sleeping, curled up in the crook of his arm, her breathing even, and her hair, glorious and white, spilling out across the bed they shared.

He nuzzled her face gently with his own, caressing her nude skin with a sharp, retracted clawed- hand.

The sheet she was wrapped in fell gently away at his touch, revealing a long, shallow scratch, glowing angry and red.

He pulled his hand back.

It was only a scratch- but a reminder of the part of himself he kept subdued just for her.

"_mmmm…" _

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked at him, a sated smile spreading across her face then frowning as she followed his eyes.

"It's just a scratch." She took one of his clawed hands in hers and burrowed deeper against his chest. He stroked her hair, lulling her gradually back to sleep.

"I'm not good for you," he whispered into her ear, even as his free hand reached out to the dresser to grab the shiny object on it. He wrapped it around her neck, securing it tightly.

Burying his face in her skin once again, he inhaled, allowing the smell of her to imprint upon his memory before rising carefully as to not wake her. In the shadows of night, he dressed, all the while watching her sleep amidst the shredded remains of the bed sheets- the evidence of the power of their coupling and her control over him.

She slept on through the night, even as he left. He only looked back once as he walked out of the door. And when she awoke again in the morning, she found a diamond choker wrapped around her neck and an angry, red scratch on her breast. But_ he_ was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own, I love.**

**In His Skin**

**Chapter Two**

**Ten Years Later**

The place he was sent to was dark and wet. He didn't mind the darkness, his eyesight made it easy to see. What he couldn't stand was the dampness. He could take a lot of things. Being wet was NOT one of them.

Steam from an underground vent whistled from a place out of his sight, but the white plume was easy enough to spot as he walked down the empty corridor, his heavy, black boot-clad feet stepping into holes filled with long-standing water.

This was the entrance to their meeting point. The Brotherhood. He didn't much give a fuck about their platitudes of mutant supremacy. It just gave him an outlet for his passion.

He was a hunter. And as long as he could kill with impunity, his thirst was sated.

**.**

"Storm, Professor Xavier is calling." Jean's voice came from the other side of the closed bedroom door. Ororo looked up from where she'd been quietly grading tests from her physical science class. She shook her head ruefully as she marked a red "X" through an incorrect answer. Really, she knew students were hormone crazy in their teenage years, still, "ice" for an answer to the question , "briefly explain what hard water is," was just plain unacceptable. That one was from Bobby.

Laughing softly, she uncurled herself and rose from her perch on the window seat overlooking the lush, green backyard of the sprawling estate.

The sun was just starting to set, and she knew, from other calls at similar hours, the probability that it was mission-related was high. As she left the coziness of her room and walked down the hall nodding to the few students still wandering around in greeting, she wondered what it could be this time around.

Hopefully, it would be quick. She had classes the next day. And her kids were expecting their papers back.

**I**

The plane settled down among the tall trees, providing ample coverage and cover for this particular mission. It was recon only. Observe, and report. At the meeting, Xavier had outlined their goals precisely. There was a factory just outside Toronto. Under the cloak of night, they slipped out of the black jet quietly, and began winding their way through the trees. Tonight was women-only.

She and Jean frequently ran these types of missions together. The men tended to leap before looking- a trait that often got them all into firefights. Tonight, there would be none of that. Lowering their bodies to the ground, she and Jean quietly made their way through the tall Pine forest, and in the direction of the factory they had spotted while flying overhead.

After a few minutes of crunching through the snow caked on the ground, a dark shadow of a building loomed before them from out of the brush. Without a word, Storm began a series of hand-signals to her counterpart. Jean nodded, and they began to go in different directions. _No action_, she reminded herself. Observation only.

As she moved among the bushes and trees that skirted the edge of the factory property, she was so intent on her goal, she didn't realize she was being followed.

**.**

**.**

He leapt silently from tree, to tree, all the while, keeping his prey in his sights. He smiled to himself, his sharp incisors glinting off the moon's light. Dark eyes dilated to take in what little light was still available, were like black orbs, focused on their goal.

Another mark he'd been sent to take out. If there was anything that could satisfy him, it was the pleasure of the kill. There was nothing greater. That his mark was a female had no bearing on his decision. He did not fail. Maybe he would scare her a bit, play with her before his claws were stained with her blood. It would be gratifying nonetheless. After all, he was a hunter. An animal. Nothing would change that.

**.**

The quick movement of a tree leaf was the only warning she had. It was even more telling, because the night was still. There was no breeze.

Before she could react, a large hand grabbed her arm and whirled her around. Another grabbed her neck and something sharp pierced her skin and cut off her air as she gasped for breath and was lifted into the air.

She struggled against the dark shadow that had her pressed again the tree, her back scraping up against the rough bark.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in." The shadow turned and instantly her assailant became crystal clear.

"Victor!" she gasped as she wrapped her arms around his wrists trying to pry free herself from his grip.

"Who's Victor?" He snarled, his lips parting to reveal the elongated incisors of his bite.

"Let me go!" She rasped.

"Not on your life, babe," he remarked sharply as he growled at her once again. As he held her by then neck, her eyes entreated him, pleaded with him to free her. Speaking a language to him he no longer knew.

"Please, Victor…" She said through ragged breaths, her own blue eyes beginning to darken.

"The name's Sabertooth. Not that it'll do you any good." The sharp claws protracted from his fingers, to glance off the skin of her neck. "I wanna hear you scream." He rasped.

"Please…" she breathed, one more time, the tone an entreaty he ignored.

The wind began to whip around them, as dark clouds rolled into the sky.

He ignored her threat, instead running a long, sharp claw against her check as he leaned in so close she could feel the rough, unshaven hairs on his face.

The sensation sent an unexpected spasm down through her spine, as he lowered his head, still holding her against the tree.

"I'm not afraid of you."

His grip was still tight, but he was no longer choking her- just holding her, suspended off the ground against the tree.

He inhaled, long and deep against her neck.

_He's scenting me, _she realized. Her body had stilled its struggling, but she'd planted her feet against the tree so she could have some balance. He had angled himself to avoid any kicks she might try to deliver.

Now, she watched him, as he turned his face once again to study her silently and intently.

"No… You're not. You're something else entirely."

His voice was throaty and deep, as he cocked his head to the side, seeming to ponder her for a moment.

_He doesn't know me. _The realization hit her hard, worse than any physical pain she'd ever felt.

Suddenly, the trees rustled again and his attention snapped back. It was what she had needed. In the instant he took his eyes off her, a bolt of lightning broke the sky, streaking down between them and throwing them in different directions.

She heard him scream, but didn't turn before she took off- vertically, into the sky to escape her captor and find Jean.

Her body was still tingling hours later, after they'd arrived back at the mansion and she had reiterated what had happened. Normally, after a lightning bolt…the tingle would have faded. But the residual effects still lingered… and there was a warm spot on her neck where Victor had been so close she could feel his breath against her skin.

Residual effects from the mission.

She shook the feelings off as she shed her clothes on the floor of her bedroom and strode naked into the bathroom for a late night shower, trying to ignore the knot that had formed low in her belly and the tears that threatened to pour down her face.

He didn't recognize her. She barely recognized him.

As the hot water poured down her skin, drowning the tears that fell, she fingered the diamond choker she wore around her had created a dark red imprint from where his hand had been wrapped around it.


	3. Chapter 3

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 3**

Charles Xavier looked out of the large, window that occupied the space behind his desk. A steady stream of rain beat down the glass pane. The sky had been dark all day. The previous night had seen thunderstorms and lightening that had frightened many of the school's younger students. It was noon now, but the skies were still dark.

He knew there were no weather systems moving in the area.

A soft whirr filled the room as he maneuvered his wheelchair around the large, mahogany wood desk, across the thick carpeted floor of his study and down the hall.

Xavier acknowledged the students as they greeted him in the halls on their way to their next destinations. He continued on his way until he arrived at the back of the school's large entry hall were a set of double- doors leading to the back porch. It was here the rain beat the hardest.

He traveled through them and outside onto the stone surface, the wheels on his chair splashing in the puddles that had formed until he came to a place on the far corner under a small over-hang. someone was already there.

"The forecast didn't call for rain," he said, staring out across the manicured lawn, doused in shades of gray.

"Oh, Professor, I'm sorry." The rain began to slow, but the heavy clouds remained overhead as Ororo closed her eyes. Soon, the rain had stopped. She exhaled.

"I haven't seen you this disturbed in a very, long time." The professor spoke gently. "I won't probe your mind. But if I may ask, what is it that you are upset about?"

He could see in her eyes, hesitation- and he could feel the heavy sadness around her. It was unusual. Out of all of his teachers, and his students, she was the one with the calmest temperament, although, it had not always been that way. Ororo was perfectly capable of keeping her emotions in check. To see them manifest in such a physical way, was indicative of a greater problem.

"Nothing, Charles. I'm…fine." Her voice trailed off and she turned away from him then, to focus on the grassy park before them.

"You are bothered because of the events of last night." He said, matter-of-factly. "What aren't you saying, Ororo? This is not like you."

She turned around again, eyes flashing. The sky began to darken as a loud rumble rolled across the sky.

"You said you wouldn't read my mind." Her words were blunt and pointed.

"I did not. Your emotions are written, quite literally, across the sky. Call it an educated guess. And if I can go further, I will assume it has more to do with Sabertooth's attack on you."

Her eyes closed and her shoulders slumped momentarily as she exhaled.

"I knew him. Once."

There. The truth. He waited silently as she unconsciously lifted a hand and fingered the necklace that graced her neck.

"We were…lovers. But he left. And now, when I see him, he doesn't recognize me. He tries to kill me. And he's with Magneto."

It came pouring out, quickly, but was said with a detachment she did not feel.

"Ororo, you, more than anyone else know how important it is that we stop whatever Magneto is planning. If, along the course of our mission, we are able to help Sabertooth, we will try. However, if Magneto is planning something, we need to know what it is."

He would not make the promise. It was rare that he couched his words and answered indirectly, however, the situation was delicate. One had to proceed with caution where matters of the heart were concerned.

**II**

"The entrance to the factory is here." Jean pointed to a spot on the map expanded across the far wall by a digital projector. The room they were in was dark, everyone spread across a long table. Logan, Scott, Rogue, Professor Xavier and Remy.

It was late into the next day. The students would all be sleeping by now as their teachers gathered in the lower catacombs of the mansion, stark, and institutional, compared to the warm walls, great halls and elaborate trappings above.

"During the flyover we spotted a back entrance here," Ororo spoke up, pointing to another spot further away on the map.

"If we can distract from the front, we can get it, and stop whatever the Brotherhood is trying to do."

"Did you see anything from the inside?" Scott spoke up.

"Unfortunately. No." She said. "We were unable to make entry due to Sabertooth's attack. However, his presence indicates there is activity. Now that the Brotherhood knows we are aware of their use of this location, it is unlikely they'll stay there for long. They may even be in the process of moving right now. If we get there, and they're gone, we would still be able to search the factory for clues about their plans."

**.**

They were over the location within an hour. As the jet soared across the inky, dark sky, she could see the treetops rising into the sky underneath them.

It was a routine mission, but she was anything but calm. Tonight, she was anxious. The only person she had shared her anxiety with was Xavier. Not even Jean- though she knew her friend could sense her troubled state. She was just grateful Jean had not called her on it.

Logan's sole focus was on Sabertooth- earlier, as they departed, the Professor had told them to capture- not to kill. Logan had been silent since then; the only sign of his current temperament were the protracted steel claws in his hands that he was slowly sliding back and forth on each other. She hoped he would stick to the Professors orders.

As the plane drew down, her heart began to beat a little faster in her chest, though she outwardly composed. By the time they touched down, she had managed to focus her energy into the task before them.

Once outside the plane, Scott began giving orders:

"Storm, you Rogue and Gambit will take the North entrance. There's a spot right above that snow cap and a trail that leads directly to a side entrance."

They nodded and began moving off, leaving Scott, Jean and Logan to find their way.

She had confidence in her group. They were a cunning trio.

Two fliers- and Gambit- who was might as well be able to fly for his skill at harnessing energy. They tramped silently through the snow on a separate path from where the others had gone, up a snow-filled embankment and through the trees, until they got to a seemingly abandoned entrance at the back of the factory.

Using only hand-signals, she guided Gambit and Rogue to opposite sides of the door. They crept up to the large, rusted steel frame as silently as possible.

Slowly, she went toward the door and pried it open. Gambit held it steady using the rusted bolts and working them back and forth with the energy generated from the door. Soon, it moved on its own.

The three of them slipped inside, and into semi-darkness. A long, damp hallway loomed before them. There was water on the ground, and a semi-constant dripping of water echoed through the chamber from somewhere off in the distance. They began to move.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Chapter EDITED 1/25/2011. Thank you to my good friend and editor Dearland, for your work. And for making sense out of my insanity._


	4. Chapter 4

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 4**

Her smell had been with him ever since she'd knocked him out in the snow a week before. The smell was intoxicating. It grated on every cell of his body- it set his already sensitive nerves on edge. It was…familiar. But he was certain he had never encountered her before. In the past two days it had waned enough so that his attention could once again focus on the tasks at hand, but now…it was back.

And it was not alone.

"Sabertooth, what is it?" The others looked to him as he scented the air around them.

"Mutants," he grumbled, his sharp eyes darting around the room.

The reaction was immediate.

"Sabertooth, Toad, seek them out. Kill them. Mystique, come with me. We're moving." Magneto's voice left no room for argument. Not that he would. Any chance for a hunt or a fight was always favorable. And that scent…he needed to seek it out. And this time, when he saw her again, he wouldn't fail. He didn't wait for the frog-man. Instantly he locked onto the scent, and took off, his large frame leaping from wall to wall, as he moved quickly down the tunnel.

**.**

**.**

She was on her own now, Rogue and Gambit had moved off into opposite directions when they'd come to a split in the tunnel system. Ororo continued to follow the winding path she was on, noticing she was going further and further down- where, she didn't know but a hunch told her it was the right direction.

But as she traveled deeper, the walls began to close in around her. Her breathing became increasingly labored, and her eyes moved, cautious and quick, to every shadow, and every small sound she heard. Her nerves were on edge, coupled with an growing tightness in her lower belly. Claustrophobia. She hated small spaces, and it was proving especially true this time around.

Suddenly, a quick movement at her left side, caught her eye causing her to whirl around to squint into the darkness.

Nothing…

Wait—

It started quietly, and then grew louder…the telltale screech…like nails, or rather _claws _on a chalkboard…

"Well, well, well…"

The voice was deep and raspy, preceded by a hard thump and the splash from where heavy feet had landed in a puddle. The rustling of clothing, ripped and tattered, she knew from previous experience, soon appeared before her, as he came closer, his hair long, and wild, tangled, and ….

"Here kitty, kitty…"

She backed up fast against the wall and at the same time, he lunged toward her, letting out a bellicose yell that sounded like a roaring lion, thick, sharp claws protracted and aiming for her throat.

She dodged quickly, the movement so fast he hit the wall- the impact reverberating through the entire tunnel.

Down here she was virtually powerless…

They danced around each other- dodging blows. One came dangerously close. With an incredibly fast strike his large hand cut through the air and came down across her shoulder, slicing her black leather uniform like butter and into her skin, drawing blood. She screamed.

The pain was intense, but she'd just missed what could have very well been a fatal blow.

The impact of her shoulder onto the ground where she'd fallen hurt like hell, but she had to move. Quickly, summoning her own prowess, she began manipulating the elements around her.

A searing gust of wind began whipping through the tunnel—hitting him hard as she scooted away. He tried to press forward, pushing against it, but she reached out one hand and began turning the puddles to ice. The exertion made her wound gush faster, and she was starting to feel faint, and dizzy. Gathering what little water lay splattered in pools around them she began to form te molecules into one long single ice dagger…

Where were the others? They had to have heard her scream…

She got quickly to her feet, but the sudden movement and the blood loss made the room begin to spin. The torrent of wind, water and ice fell suddenly, and the beast used the moment to break free.

Sabertooth wasted no time. He lunged at her yet again, this time knocking the both of them down to the floor. He was on top of her now, one clawed hand wrapped around her neck.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the strike that she was too weak to even try to stop…

He leaned in close, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek.

"You smell…nice…"

It was a hiss and a growl. Her vision began to cloud as the walls of the tunnel started spinning faster and faster, until she felt like she was floating…

Vaguely she was aware that the weight on her chest and vanished. There were yells and growls coming from a place far away.

She thought she saw something fly as something else went crashing…bright lights exploded in front of her eyes, accompanied by a boom- the sound muted…

Then another face - male…

Then nothing at all.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **Chapter edited 1/25/2011. Thank you to my editor and friend, Dearland, who is trying to make sense out of my insanity. _


	5. Chapter 5

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 5**

"She's waking up, Professor."

As soon as her eyes flittered open, they were met with the painful sting of bright, fluorescent lights and white walls.

She groaned and tried to turn over, only to be met with an additional pain- her shoulder throbbed.

"Be careful 'Ro, the stitches are still fresh," Jean's soft voice cut through the pounding in her head.

"Can you turn down the lights, hun? She said, softly, her eyes still closed, trying to take her focus off the pain in her head and arm.

Through closed eyelids she felt, rather than saw the lights dim.

Finally, she sat up from the bed she'd been laid out on. When she opened her eyes again, she knew immediately where she was— back at the school, but in the lower floors in the infirmary. There was an IV in her arm with a clear liquid dripping down.

Jean sat next to her in a lab coat, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Morphine. I just started the drip. It should help with your arm. The cuts were nasty."

Ororo looked away from Jean for the first time to glance at her shoulder. It was covered in white gauze that wrapped from the shoulder blade to across her clavicle.

The scar would be nasty as well.

Leaning back, she sighed. "How long have I been asleep? What happened after I passed out?"

"You've been asleep almost 10 hours. We heard you scream and came running. Logan charged Sabertooth and knocked him off you. Then we met the Toad-"

A shudder accompanied the scrunching of Jean's soft, feminine features. It made Ororo laugh, temporarily forgetting about her shoulder. However it reminded her with a sharp pain that shot through her arm.

"Oh!" She winced and lay back gingerly against the raised back of the bed. "Well, the name fits." She wheezed out once the pain subsided.

"Well, courtesy of Scott, he's now missing a certain appendage," Jean said with a sly smile.

Ororo's eyes went wide as she turned her head to look at her friend.

"You didn't!"

"No! Not THAT appendage!" Jean amended quickly. "His tongue. Scott blasted him when he tried to attack us. He slunk off. Meanwhile, Logan and Sabertooth got into a fight—

Ororo closed her eyes, and sealed her lips together bracing herself for the worst.

"We thought he'd killed him, but apparently, Logan managed to knock him out." She finished, as Ororo exhaled.

"By the time we got down into another chamber, Magneto, and whatever else was there, was gone."

"Where's Sabertooth?" She tried to ask the question carefully, but there must have been something in her voice or demeanor that Jean quickly caught on to, because she hesitated before answering.

"He's here." Her friend said, studying her.

"Ororo…"

"Drop it, Jean."

"No."

She looked up to see the other woman looking down at her on the bed.

"You've taken an interest in him." She could feel her mind starting to tingle, and quickly closed her eyes, shutting Jean out and steering the conversation away from where it was heading.

Although Jean was almost like a sister to her, there were some things she wasn't ready to divulge. And this was one of them.

"I'm asking because he tried to kill me. Twice, now." She finished her own tone steely. Jean backed off.

"We're running tests on him right now. And we're keeping Logan away. He'd like nothing more than to cut off Sabertooth's head. There are obviously some issues there."

She stifled the snort at Jean's pronouncement. Logan had come to them four years before, with absolutely no recollection of who he was and how he'd gotten his particular…anatomy.

His entire skeleton had been fused with an alloy stronger than any metal found on Earth. Who did it, and how it had been done had been lost to him for years…until recently.

She was aware that Logan knew Victor. How well they knew each other had always been a mystery. He wouldn't talk about it. And Victor…

It had been 10 years and now he was so completely…different. Like a wild animal. And while she knew he'd always worn his savagery on the outside, there had always been a level of restraint there. Not anymore.

Jean continued filling her in, taking her silence as attentiveness.

"Aside from his obvious physical characteristics, we're seeing a healing ability that is almost exactly the same as Logan's. In fact, it seems almost all of their abilities are the same or similar."

"What do you mean, almost the same?" Ororo inquired, curiosity breaking her out of her own musings.

"We're not sure. Charles is running extended tests on Logan's DNA as well as Sabertooth's, but it appears their mutations are derived from the same strand."

"Can I go to my room? Or am I stuck here for a while longer?" she asked.

"You can go. But be careful. I've got some ointments and some pain meds for you. I'm ordering you to easy for a few days. Sabertooth is restrained, we've got him on secure alert, and we're keeping him unconscious- which is hard enough to do, because his body rejects mostly everything. Logan is pacing like a caged cat, but other than that, everyone and everything is fine."

She could only nod mutely as she swung her legs around the side of the bed and stood up shakily.

Everything was far from fine. The fact _he _was so near, was frightening, and disturbing. She tried to channel her emotions, but one kept rising to the surface despite her best efforts. Hope.

**.**

**.**

_The bar was a crowded, smoke-filled dive in Northern Michigan, right where the state crossed into the Canadian territories._

_Typical recon -a mutant they'd been tracking for the longest, one with the ability to mimic the bodies of those she came in contact with. She wasn't particularly dangerous, but her power was one that could cause problems._

_It had been a long day and her partner had already headed back to their hotel for the night._

_She was tired._

_Ignoring the catcalls and looks she was getting she slid up to the bar and ordering a drink._

_The rancid smell of old cigars and foul body odor hit her nose. This would require something really strong._

"_Two Cap and cokes - with an extra shot." She yelled over the noise and, after a long appraisal by the bartender, he went to fix her drink._

_While she waited, she spun around on the stool and looked out at the crowd. The music was loud, a combination of country and rock. Far away from the rhythmic beats and smooth lyrics she'd grown up listening to in Africa. _

_As she surveyed her surroundings, the seat beside her filled with a body. She ignored him. Instead, breathing a deep sigh and spinning back around the other way. _

_Yet this stranger disturbed her._

_He was quietly running his fingers across the wooden bar, looking down at the etching slowly being carved in the wake of his fingers. His hands drew her attention._

_They were large, dirty, calloused and rough, the fingers tapering into sharp nails… that protracted as he slowly carved lazy circles into the wood with ease. it dawned on her slowly that those weren't fingernails…_

_Her eyes made their way to his wrists…then higher up his coat sleeve, the fabric a faded black, but there was no mistaking the quality- obviously well made. She could see the outline of a large frame, strong, muscular but not overly so that it would be repulsive. _

_His face was full with a square jaw, a full beard with a goatee in desperate need of a shave, and a sharp, distinguished nose…She found herself soon staring right into his eyes. Blue, lighter than hers, paler._

_They were studying her as intently as she was looking at them. She looked away quickly._

"_See somethin' you like?"_

_The voice was a rich, dark baritone, tinged with unhidden sexuality and innuendo that set her body on fire as those eyes took the moment to appraise her from top to bottom._

_She'd chosen form-fitting black pants that stretched in all the right places, a pair of motorcycle boots that laced up the front, a black tank top and a waist-high leather jacket._

_Her white hair flowed freely down her shoulders and back._

_He leaned in closer to her, one of his hands touching her hair and letting it run through his fingers, his lips inches from hers._

"—_Cause I do."_

_He smelled like a combination of bourbon and spice, musky…and oh so thoroughly male…_

_She swatted his hand away, and shot him a hard look of her own. "Too bad. I don't."_

_It was a bold faced lie, they both knew it, still, there was fun in the danger. _

_The corners of his lips turned up in a smirk, revealing long canines which only added to his sexy AND her horny._

_It had been a VERY long time._

_He leaned back against the counter, his long, black coat falling open to reveal a black dress shirt tucked into a pair of worn slacks that wrapped around sculpted thighs._

_Shit._

_Two could play this game._

_She let her own face relax into a smile as the bartender came back, setting her drinks down._

_She took the first one and took it to the head, downing it in three big gulps. The liquid burned like propane down her throat, but felt so good…making the folds between her thighs slick with desire._

_Her stool swiveled around until she could rest her arms on the counter, and cross and uncross her legs…watching him, watching her actions unashamedly._

"_Victor."_

_When his eyes finally got back to her face again, she was ready._

"_Ororo."_

"_Wanna go for a ride, Ororo?" That smirk reappeared on his face again, and she had an identical one to match._

_It had been a long day. And even longer week, and entirely too much time since the last time she'd had some…and this looked like it could be a REALLY fun way to…relax. She was a big girl. She could handle herself. It may be wrong…but damn if at the moment she could care less._

_It was the devil on her shoulder that made the words slip from her mouth._

"_On me, or on you?"_

_**.**_

_**.**_

She sat up in bed, panting. The sheets were wet, and so was she. But the dream had been so real, so vivid, like it had just happened. The reality hurt more than the fantasy. That was another time, and another place. Ten years ago. She had to shake it. But she also knew there'd be no more sleep for the night.

The alarm on the side of her bed rudely announced the time: 4:30 am. The children were still asleep, and would be for another three hours. The halls would be empty. She needed to walk to clear her mind for a while.

Throwing on a pair of sweats, flip flops and a t-shirt that draped down her injured shoulder, she walked out of her room and down the hallway lost in her own thoughts.

She wanted to help him. She needed to help him. She wanted to know why he'd left.

She didn't stop wandering until she walked outside to the balcony, and found she wasn't alone.

"Couldn't sleep?"

Logan.

He sat on a patio chair, his feet propped up on the banister smoking a cigar, and blowing clouds into the air.

He didn't look at her as he spoke, his tone anything but unwelcoming. Taking the cure she grabbed another chair from the set stacked at the far side and sat it down next to his.

"No. I see you had the same problem."

He turned to her then, raising a thick eyebrow, until his eyes fell onto the gauze still wrapped around his shoulder.

The expression on his face darkened considerably.

"Don't worry about it. It will heal," she said, but he waved off the words dismissively.

"If the professor had let me finish what I'd started, we wouldn't have to worry about that happening anymore."

She didn't have a response to that one.

In many ways, she and Logan were similar. They had respect for one another, and were both intensely private people. But sometimes…sometimes if he wasn't infatuated with Jean, and if she didn't have a strict, "no sex with co-workers" rule…then maybe, in another life, they could have been and would have been something more.

As it was now though, they were friends. And she could relay to him the things she couldn't relay to anyone else in the house.

Logan, unlike her other companions, understood her darker side. He'd long sensed the demons she kept locked away, and though they never spoke about it, he knew she struggled with those things just as much as he did.

"You hate him."

He chuckled, low and deep in his chest at her statement of the obvious.

"You hate him, and yet, both you and I know it wasn't the professor that stilled your hand. If you really wanted to kill him, you would have."

He turned on her suddenly, eyes flashing in warning. He didn't challenge the assertion.

"Why Logan? Why didn't you kill him?"

There was no answer, and for a moment, she thought he would get up and walk away. But he didn't. Instead, he surprised her.

"The same reason you didn't, Ro."

Her mouth opened, and then closed.

"I smelled him on you. His scent lingered for days after you and Jean came back last week. Like a damn cat in heat. He marked you. Same smell you had when we went out last night too. I'm not dumb, Ro. I smelled you before I ever knew who you were. So, how long have you been fuckin' my brother?"

The last words were spoken with contempt and laced with bitterness.

Brother.

She chose her words carefully. Temporarily taken aback, but not surprised at his bluntness.

"Ten years ago. That was the last time I saw him. He left me." She finished.

"Instinct. It's something no amount of bullets to the head can take away," Logan started, tapping the hand holding the cigar to his head before putting it back in his mouth and continuing on. "I may not have known who he was for years- hell, I didn't even know myself when I came here- but I damn well knew his scent.

And I knew yours too. Caught it once bout 10 years ago when he hunted me down just to fuck with me. Didn't know him at the time, but I knew that smell—just so happened there was somethin' extra attached to it. Pussy. Couldn't place it for the longest, then I wound up here. I didn't know you. But your smell was etched in my mind. It's why I didn't trust you.

So I figured you must be a bad bitch, or a dumb one, or both, to go for him. Then, after getting' to know you, I figured you were an innocent. So I stayed, chalked it up to a judgment lapse. You have a good head on you, Ro. And you could pull any man out there, so don't get stupid now. Men like Victor- men like me—we don't change."

With that, he rose, and headed back into the mansion.

**.**

**.**

Logan's words stayed with her as she made her way down into the catacombs of the school. And while she knew he was right, a part of her also felt what she and Victor shared so long ago wasn't a lie.

What had started off as a random, temporary moment had grown into something …more.

"Signature accepted. Welcome, Ororo." The computer lights on the door turned green and the unit slid open.

She walked through and down the long hallway to where she knew Victor was being housed, until finally, she came to another door.

She knew this was it. It was one of three highly re-enforced rooms they kept as security centers for their more…controversial "guests".

The door behind her slid closed and the room lit up.

On the opposite of the wall was a glass wall that was five inches thick.

She walked toward it hesitantly.

Victor was laid out across a bed, his larger, heavier frame dwarfing the small cot he was on. Most of his clothing had been removed, saved for the pants he wore. He was barefoot and curled up, facing away from her.

She couldn't help but admire him now, just as she'd done before. While his hair was still tangled, and he was obviously desperately in need of grooming, he was still magnificent. Her eyes traveled across his back, watching the way the muscles contracted and relaxed as he breathed.

He'd sensed her eyes on him.

Rolling over, he stood up, the muscles in his back flexing as he rose and turned to look at her. She watched as he walked right up to the glass and looked at her.

"You."

She didn't respond, but watched as he looked toward her shoulder, shrouded in white gauze. Raising a clawed hand to the glass, he etched the outline of her wound and…

snickered.

The claws glanced across the glass gently as they traced the outline of her shoulder, the way his hand moved so similar to the way he used to touch her…

And suddenly, out of nowhere, he spoke her name, like he knew it.

"Ororo."

She backed up from the glass and began running to find Professor Xavier.

* * *

_Author's Note: This chapter edited 2/04/2011 by Dearland_


	6. Chapter 6

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 6  
**

"There's damage around the part of his brain that controls memory. He remembers what he's done, but not who he is. His memories time out after a certain point. It's similar to what Logan experienced when he first came here, only in the inverse."

For the second time in under a week, she, Professor Xavier, Jean and Logan were gathered around the large conference room.

The decision on who to include and who to exclude had been made by the Professor and seemed more than appropriate, given the situation.

"So you're saying whoever did this to him, knew what they were doing?" she asked

"And I am also suggesting whoever did this, as in Logan's case, did it for a very specific reason," Charles replied, casting a side-glance at Logan, who up until that point had been silently brooding.

"So let's layout a time line, and figure out exactly at what point, this happened, "Jean added, whipping out a pen and pad and starting to write.

"Logan, we know you two were friends. How much can you tell us?"

"1845, Canada. We ran away from home. The Civil War, World War I, II, Vietnam. After 'Nam we went into Special Ops—that's where we met that bastard Stryker the one who did this to me-" with a flex of his wrists, three long, silver blades shot out of his hands, then retracted just as quickly.

"– I left, he stayed. Six years later, he shows back up. That's when they put the adamantium in me. Last time I saw him, he was jumping off a nuclear reactor on Three Mile Island. The next thing I saw was a bullet lodged in my head. You know the rest."

"That brings us to at least 1975," Jean said. "Ororo, when did you meet Victor?"

The question took her by surprise and her face revealed it.

"No one told me. I guessed. Now, you and Victor—when did you two meet?"

"Ten years ago. It was when we were trying to find Copycat." She said.

"So that puts us to a date of 1990 or after."

"So the question is how do we get him to remember? Ororo, Victor reacts to you. On some level he knows who you are—"Charles started, only to be interrupted by Logan.

"-He also tried to kill her twice," he grumbled.

"That is also true. But you two are the closest attachments he has or knows. And in order for us to find out what happened to him, we need you two to help us. Logan, that means you have to put aside your hate to help your brother. Ororo- that means you have to try to reach that part of him that recognizes you."

"You mean the part of him that's still human," she said bluntly.

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean." he said. 'We'll rotate, first you, then Logan. Both of you draw out his stronger emotions, for better," he looked to her, "-and for worse." He nodded in Logan's direction. If I can form a connection through the two of you, it may help us get him back.

If we're successful, he'll remember who he is. And while I will admit that who he is isn't exactly very nice, it is better than the monster in there now. At least he'll have the freedom to choose again."

Jean rose, leaving the three of them behind. After the door slid close behind her, Professor Xavier once again addressed them.

"The both of you- your actions will be monitored, and recorded. What you say and do is up to you. This is a private matter which will remain between the four of us. The others know he's here, and they know you two are assisting, but that is the fullest extent of the knowledge."

**.**

**.**

Ororo was nervous, but tried not to show it as she sat once again in the gray room separated from him by the thick glass.

"Victor? Can you hear me?" she called to the figure on the other side. He was facing away from her, seated upright on the bed, but so still he looked to be sleeping. Except he wasn't.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" the voice was raspy. Not at all like the smooth baritone of her dreams.

"Because that's your name. Just like mine's Ororo. Do you remember my name?"

The roar he let out took her by surprise as he rushed into the wall that separated them, a large fist slamming against the glass again and again. She jumped back.

"Let me outta here!" He roared again, banging his fists so hard against the glass that the impact rattled and echoed through the walls and shook the room around them. It was only the fact they were separated that kept her still.

The outburst was enough to make her back up a few steps.

"I guess you don't." she said quietly, after his rage had abated a bit. Now he looked at her, chest heaving with his head tilted to the side.

The fan kicked on again blowing cooler air into the room.

Suddenly, he looked up, sniffing, his eyes darting back and forth.

"You." He growled, once again, turning his focus back onto her. The vents had blown air between the two rooms, carrying her smell to him.

"I've smelled you before."

"Yes, you have." She answered back.

Again his head cocked to the side as his wide, dark eyes studied her.

"Ororo."

She nodded mutely as he continued to study her.

"I know you."

He looked at her shoulder then smiled.

"You taste good."

It was past time for her to go. But she didn't want to leave him alone. They'd spent most of their time studying each other, he'd tried taunting her, but she didn't give in. He'd yelled, screamed, growled—to no avail. Instead, she'd just been drained. Her mind was tired, her body ached and she wasn't in a good place emotionally. Maybe Logan would have better luck.

**.**

**.**

His dark eyes warily watched the figures on the other side. He knew these people…knew their scents anyway. The smells drove him crazy. Made him scream. Made him lash out. How long he'd have to remain trapped in this cement prison he didn't know. How many days he'd been here, he didn't know that either.

Still, they came. Daily. For hours on end. And his rage grew, and grew. He knew when they weren't there they were still watched him.

He'd searched for a way out, only to discover nothing.

He'd dismantled the bed- but still couldn't get out. They'd erected some sort of force field. When he tried to break through it, the shock wound through his body setting him on fire. He learned that wasn't an option.

The next shot was to try the glass. He'd attempted to slice his way through- but it was entirely too thick, even for him.

They fed him through a small metal hole in the door. That shit was disgusting. He wanted REAL meat- not that baked shit they tried to force on him…

Fuck, when he got out…they'd all die…

There were four he saw regularly. The old man in the wheel chair. A telepath. He hated those. He focused on hate and anger when he felt him probing. The female in the lab coat was just as bad. But he liked scaring her. She was skittish, jumpy. He noticed how she tried to stay calm, but he also smelled her fear. She, at least, was fun to play with.

Then came the little goon. The one he'd been trying to kill for years. The desire to kill him slowly was taunting. He imagined slitting his throat, impaling him with his claws…savoring the victory of the defeat of this other. At least he knew where he hid out. So when he got out, he could achieve his goal.

But the other female…with the white hair, blue eyes and brown skin…

SHE wasn't afraid. In fact, she was the high point of his day. That damn smell…of flowers and …something else. Something unique only to her. It did things to him.

Made him want to catch her so he could fuck her into the floor. Made him want to savor her and then destroy her. He'd tried and failed to frighten her. He'd tried to kill her, but still she came back. He was drawn to her, but didn't know why. Her scent was familiar, and he wanted her. Now when she came, he was silent. Studying her as she studied him. They watched each other regularly.

He wanted to reach out and touch her again.

Damn. He was getting tired. He could go days without rest. But this...captivity…had worn on him. He resisted it as long as he could though. One never turned their back on the enemy. Especially telepaths. They'd get to you in your dreams. He didn't want that.

**.**

**.**

_Laughter filled his ears. A sound he normally hated, but this…it was low and resonant, not high-pitched, throaty and deep. Sexy. He liked it._

_He liked it even more when she spoke his name. He liked the way it sounded when it slipped from her lips when she was asleep. It was better than any high he got off on while killing._

_This was real. One-night stands were how he operated. Last night started off the same as it usually did. Different woman. Different bar. But somewhere between pushing her against the wall, and where they'd finally landed, on the floor, something had changed. He realized this wasn't the same as the others._

_For one, he'd told her his name. His real name, not one of the many aliases he used. _

_For two…hours later, and with the sun just now breaking into their room—he was still there._

_The first time was lust—he needed it. She needed it. Hard, fast, dirty, nasty. There was no pretense about that. It was how he liked it and how she'd wanted it._

_The second time he took her… bent over on the bed, so he could go deep- warm and tight…fuck…it drove him crazy. Pussy shouldn't feel this damn good._

_But the third time…when she rode him…straddled his waist with those long, curvy legs, he'd pulled her close to his chest and rocked her fast- then slower…his hips moving rhythmically. He like the way her long nails scratched down his chest, his back._

_The orgasm built, and built, until it wrapped around them both, drawing them deeper into each other…he didn't want to stop nor did he want to let go…_

_That night was the first time he'd ever uttered a woman's name when he came._

_Ororo._

Charles pulled off the helmet he wore as the soft hum of Cerebro began to die down. Soon, it was quiet in the orb-like room he was presently situated in.

Finally, he'd seen something other than blackness in the mind of his "guest." There was still a man inside the beast. And he now knew how to get to him.

**.**

**.**

"Wait—you want us to what?"

Sabertooth had been in their custody for two weeks, and during that time, everyone involved had been growing fatigued with the Professor's "experiment".

"It would be up to the both of you. I believe if he could touch you, and you could hold your connection to him, I would be able to rebuild his identity. He still has his memories, but they are buried."

"And you want us to go in there with him. Give him access to kill us? I don't mind. I can hold my own, but 'Ro -" Logan started his protest but she quickly shut him down.

"—can handle herself." She shot back quickly. "Professor, what do you think could happen, if we do this?"

"At best it will relax his defenses and allow me to go in. At worst, he'll fight me." The professor said calmly.

"But it is not me that I am concerned about. It is the two of you. If you believe he is worth it, then it will be done."

"I'll do it." Ororo spoke up, her voice calm and measured.

Logan looked at her long and hard, before leveling a weighted sigh. "Me too."

**.**

**.**

They went in together. She and Logan had chosen this as the best option. If Victor's attention was divided it would be easier for Xavier to gain access. Now, the door slid closed behind them and the force field switched on once again.

Victor was crouched in a corner of the room, watching them.

As they got closer he snarled. Logan put a hand out to stop her.

"Sabertooth."

He cocked his head to the side, a wide, smile spreading across his face, showing off long, twin fangs.

"Wolverine." He stood, stretching his massive frame casually.

She watched as the claws that had been retracted gradually began extending themselves as he cracked his knuckles and flexed his fingers.

Not to be out done, Logan's own steel-clad claws extended quickly. "We ain't here to fight you."

"Really?" He huffed, stalking closer to them.

"No." she spoke out firmly, coming from around Logan to step between the two men.

He had one clawed had risen as if to strike, but seeing her so close, he stopped.

"Victor, its Ororo. And Logan- your brother. We want you to remember us. We want you to listen to us."

His eyes switched back and forth between the two of them. Logan held back, but kept his guard up.

"Why shouldn't I kill the both of you?"

"Because if you wanted to, you would have by now. Victor…" She moved closer to him, knowing it could be the last thing she did.

"Let me touch you. Touch me. You _know_ me." One hand reached out toward his face, slowly as she inched ever closer. He didn't move, but his eyes watched her intently.

Finally, her fingers grazed his cheek. Instead of shying away, he leaned into her touch.

She could feel the warmth of his skin, the scratchy feel of his beard but more importantly, she could feel him. Being careful to keep her eyes on him, she reached her other hand out to Logan for him to take.

In the back of her mind, she heard the professor speak.

"Good, Ororo. Stay…I'm in contact."

Logan's hand slipped into hers.

**.**

**.**

He was rooted to the spot and leaning into a soft hand that touched his cheek, so warm…inviting…there was a buzz…growing louder…and louder…she was closer and closer….and then—it was instant. Something so powerful it jolted through his body like a flash of light. He saw her—he saw him. He saw them both. Then everything went black.

**.**

**.**

When he awoke, he was surrounded by solid gray concrete. He looked down at himself, bare to his waist, and no shoes. Where the hell were his clothes? His head pounded, like someone had slammed him into a concrete floor. One clawed hand ran through his hair- and instantly he pulled his hand away, as he felt more hair than what he'd remembered being there…He snatched his hand away from his head like it burned.

"What the fuck?"

He was in a bad mood, and it was getting worse and worse by the second. Seeing the large, glass window on the side of the wall, he walked toward it, hoping for a glimpse…

An alien face looked back at him.

Long, tangled hair, a beard overgrown and comical, eyebrows long and furred…what had happened to him?

Angry, frustrated and more than a bit confused at the entire situation, Victor did the only thing he could. He roared.

**.**

**.**

She went first. Stepping up to the door, she closed her eyes, inhaled, and went in.

**.**

**.**

As soon as he heard the tell-tale sounds of the door to his prison opening he tensed, waiting to pounce on whoever or whatever entered. He was pissed off and confused. But above all, he wanted answers. Someone was about to have their throats cut.

As soon as the figure revealed itself- he stopped, not quite believing who he was seeing. White hair- as familiar today as it had been the last time he'd seen it. Brown skin, as warm and inviting as it had been the last time he touched it…

He knew her as sure as he knew himself. But he couldn't quite believe she was here with him. Not quite trusting his sight.

"Ororo?"

Her eyes lit up at the sound of her name, but still it seemed she was unsure.

"Ororo, its Victor."

She walked quickly into his arms and he grabbed her, pulling her tight against his chest and holding her there, soft and warm while he inhaled. It was her.

It had been too long…her body trembled in his grasp, and he pulled back to look at her, noticing her eyes were wet.

He was alarmed. Raising a hand to her cheek, he retracted his claws completely in order to wipe her eyes with his hand.

She buried her head back in his chest as he cradled her head in one of his large hands, still trying to figure out if this was real or just an illusion.

**.**

**.**

Victor had been in many a fucked up situation, but this one was ahead of the pack. He was torn between trying to escape, and staying—if only for the woman sitting toward his right.

Right now, he was seated at a table with an old man in a wheelchair, another woman in a white lab coat. And Logan. Shit. He would have thought he was in hell if not for the angel at his side. They weren't touching but he could feel her. And Logan was keeping a wary eye on him. Just for kicks, and because he knew what effect it would have, he smiled.

"Hello Jimmy. Long time, no see."

Logan tensed up even more, and then snorted. He laughed.

"Still the same, I see. Relax little brother, I'm not gonna bite…" he cast a quick side glance toward Ororo, then back to Logan. "Hard."

He couldn't help it.

"Victor…" Logan growled and he only smiled wider, showing fangs.

"Logan- Victor, stop it. You were saying, professor?" Ororo interjected between them, quick to diffuse the tension building in the room.

He knew he wasn't a welcomed guest. Still… the end result of this would be mutually beneficial to them all.

While he'd recovered his identity, there was still a large part of his mind that remained blank. An entire decade was missing. He remembered the night he'd left her sleeping, but after that point there was nothing until he woke up in a white lab room. She'd come walking through the door- a sight he'd never expected to see again. She should have been pissed with him. Instead, she'd embraced him. And when she led him out the door, he'd seen Logan standing right outside, and immediately tensed again. Her warm hand on his arm stayed his claws. His brother didn't say anything- not that he wanted to hear any proselytizing at that moment, but instead, she started walking down a bright white corridor, Logan behind her. And he'd followed. Considering his present situation, he'd immediately deduced it would be better to observe his situation before planning his next move.

Which is how he'd come here. Seated in a sterile room at a long table, Ororo, Logan, a tall red head, and a bald guy in a wheelchair. At that moment, what they were offering sounded damn good, and jived with his immediate needs- a shower, shave and clothes. In that order.

Seated at the table, he'd been told all the information that had led them to him, up to that point. It made sense. His immediate memory confirmed their reports- so at least they weren't lying.

There were still so many questions. Like HOW his memories had been stripped. Who had done it? And why could he remember some things…but not others? But most importantly…WHY had it been done, and who'd had balls enough to fuck with HIM?

"We can help you, Victor. If you let us. "The professor spoke from his position at the head of the table.

"What makes you trust me in your house?" He asked warily.

"Because we all want the same thing." Xavier replied, as they rose from the table, "but you already know that. Ororo, show our guest to his room."

**.**

**. **

Strangely, she still had some of his clothes left.

She'd never stopped to ask herself why she held on to them for so long. They'd stayed with her, packed up in her belongings. Just a shirt and some pants. She wondered if they'd even still fit him. Maybe she'd never really let go. Or maybe it had been one of those things that women often did- held on, until they forgot and the clothes, like the man, made their way to the background- to seduce them at night in their dreams and then leave before daytime.

In the years he'd been gone, she hadn't exactly waited around for him to come back. There had been other lovers, still…

The sound of running water caught her attention as she rounded a corner in the wing of the mansion that was for adults.

Each two rooms had a bathroom that connected them. She tapped on the first door she came to, paused a minute, then entered. The door to the bathroom was partially opened and light streamed out. She laid his clothes on the bed, and then turned to leave when the water cut off. She was almost to the door when she heard his heavy feet behind her.

_Don't turn around…don't turn around…_

"Thanks."

The syllable dripped with raw sexuality. She understood the innuendo and refused to play along. She felt his eyes on her back, watching her every movement.

"You even gonna look at me?"

"No. You are welcome, Victor." She made her way out of his room and down the hall back to hers without looking at him.

He watched her back as she left his room.

**.**

**.**

He ran a hand through his now- short hair as he watched the door close behind her. He owed her an explanation- and he'd have to give it to her soon.

After her initial reaction she'd began shutting down on him again. During the conference earlier, he'd been next to her, but she hadn't reacted—well, she HAD, but outwardly her face was a mask.

Victor did not have woman- issues. First off, there had never been a constant female to have issues with. Except her. Always the exception. Even now. He had never stopped loving her. And his passion for her burned stronger than his passion for…other activities. He was tense with energy. Wired. Anxious.

He needed a place to vent.

Casting a glance at the pile of clothes on the bed, he raised an eyebrow.

Five minutes later, dressed and freshly shaven, he made his way out his bedroom and began wandering the halls until he found himself on the main level.

The sound of something solid making impact and grunts caught his ears. He walked toward the sound until he came to the entrance to a gym. The doors swooshed open and he entered.

Logan.

His brother was ramming his fists into a punching back, his eyes focused, on an unseen object. He laughed.

"Wanna talk about it, brother?"

A fist froze mid- strike as Logan turned in his direction.

"Get out."

"Is that how you greet me, after all this time, Jimmy? I thought you'd be happy to see me. Alive, that is."

Logan snorted, as his three long metal knives extended from his fists.

Victor smiled, fully protracting his claws. The stretch felt good…the pain sending a rush of adrenaline through his system. He whistled.

"Here boy…"

Logan yelled and lunged for him and he went on the offensive- rolling out of the way before the metal claws could impale him.

"You missed. Getting slow in retirement, I see." He said, standing up and taking off at a fast run- leaping from the floor, to the wall and launching himself off a ceiling beam to land on top of Logan. they fought, slashed, punched and rolled away- only to resume again.

How long they were at it, he didn't know, until a gasp from the doorway stopped them right when Logan's claws were under his neck and he'd impaled Logan through the arm with his own.

They turned simultaneously at the sound.

Ororo.

She looked at them with an emotion neither could read, and left.

**.**

**.**

"So, feel better little brother?"

They were both sitting on the floor of the gym, looking around at the destruction they'd caused. Someone would have to pay it. He idly wondered if any of his accounts were still active and what was in them.

"What's it to you, Victor?"

He shrugged dismissively. "I see nothing's changed."

"Why should it? You slaughter innocent folks. You tried to kill me, you tricked me with Kayla so Stryker could experiment on me like a god-damned lab rat...exactly WHAT should change, Victor?"

At the accusations leveled against him, he bristled.

"YOU left, Logan. YOU deserted first. Remember? Brother's stick together? And as far as the girl…" he shrugged. "I didn't think you'd take it personal. I didn't kill her."

"Yeah, well, that's always been your problem. You don't think."

"That's always been your problem,_ Jimmy_. You think too much. You hesitate."

"So did you. Otherwise, you'd have killed 'Ro without thinking twice about it."

The words hit him hard, and he growled low in warning. Knowing he hit a sore spot, Logan kept going.

"Yeah, all those times you hunted me? I wasn't the only one with secrets. Didn't know who it was 'till I got here, though. I recognized 'Ro's scent before I even knew who she was. Later on though, I figured these folks couldn't be that bad. People make stupid decisions. I've made my fair share.

I will tell you though, you break her heart again—and I'll break your fuckin' neck without blinking. The only reason your ass is still alive is 'cause they got a no- kill rule here…"

Logan paused, and then looked at him hard.

"Plus…I owe you one for killing Wade. So this makes us even. But know if you make one wrong move, I'll cut your fuckin' head off…_brother_."

With that, he rose and walked toward the door, leaving Victor alone.

* * *

_**Author's Note:** Chapter edited by Dearland. I apologize for the lateness, I've been swamped with work._


	7. Chapter 7

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 7  
**

"Professor Munroe? Professor…?"

Her eyes snapped around from where it had been staring at nothing across the lawn.

"Huh? I'm sorry. Let's break for the day, shall we? We'll resume Monday."

Ororo's botany class was currently outside in the garden, up to their ankles in a fresh plot of soil that they had carved out in order to begin planting rows of seedlings. This class was for the younger students- an introduction to the physical sciences, which she taught. It was a balmy day, with the sun bright overhead, but not too hot, and billowy white clouds in the sky.

When she announced the day's activities, the children had been excited to go outside. It was the first semi-warm day after weeks of chilly weather. Spring was approaching. Hopefully the weather would hold through the weekend.

And while she knew she could simplyre-create the day's weather, it would be unethical of her to do so.

She smiled at the group of six assembled before her and raised a hand to silence their objections.

"Tomorrow, guys, okay? I promise we'll do it again tomorrow if the weather holds."

She hated to disappoint them, but she also knew that she was in no frame of mind to teach. Too many distractions. Like the sight of Victor and Logan fighting. God, she just knew what Charles would say when he saw the mess down in the gym. It would take a few weeks for all the repair work to be done.

And they couldn't just leave Victor to wander the grounds alone. He was just as reluctant as Logan had been to start any work with the Professor. It was two weeks since he'd regained his personality, and in that time, she'd caught glimpses of him pacing the halls at night, or moving in the shadows at day.

The children knew there was a new guest in their house, but they barely paid him any attention and it seemed he was even less inclined to interact with them. She had no idea how he spent his days. But she did know that Professor Xavier had tried to reach out to him several times to no avail.

And while a part of her felt guilty that she hadn't been making more of an effort to reach out to him too, the other part- the angry part that rose up every time she caught his shadow, refused to move her.

He'd left her.

No word, no nothing.

For years that old hurt had been suppressed, and she'd thought she had moved on, but apparently not. All of a sudden seeing Victor again had tossed her world upside down.

"Need a shoulder, Ro?"

She jumped at the voice next to her ear.

Crap. For the second time today someone had caught her drifting off. This time it was Jean.

During the time she'd spend musing on recent events, her feet had guided her down to the library. The sound of her Jean's voice brought her back as she realized where she was. It was a Friday, and she knew that the kids, anxious to get to their weekend, wouldn't be setting foot in the space any time soon. The library was always one of her favorite spots in the mansion—especially when she knew no one would be in it, given the day and the hour.

However, she forgot it was also Jean's favorite place in the mansion too. And right now, her friend was looking at her with concern written across her pretty features.

Ororo inhaled and closed her eyes, letting her breath out slowly before responding.

"You know, Jean…I think I do."

**.**

"So…this was when we were sent to track the copycat? I remember that trip. It was cold as heck," her friend replied as she finished reiterating how it all began.

"And that bar! It was so grimy but God, they had the BEST screaming O's…"

Jean trailed off in mid-thought, casting a sly glance at Ororo. For her part, she tried to keep a straight face. Until she couldn't.

It started as a snort.

Then a cough.

And ultimately a throaty, hearty laugh at her friends' ironic Freudian usage.

Soon, they were both gasping for air – Jean's face turning a light shade of red in the process.

"I'm sorry! I couldn't resist! I had to try something to make you feel better. You've been so…distant lately." Jean said when their laughs had finally subsided.

"Thanks, J. I guess I did need it. It's just…one would think after all this time I'd be over it. I thought I _was _over it."

"You lied to yourself. It's okay. We all do it now and then. We cope in different ways. But 'Ro," Jean turned serious again to face her. "There's a reason you feel this way. And I think you know what it is."

For a long moment, she didn't know what to say. It was something that had been bouncing around her head for the last few weeks, but something that, she knew, if she acknowledged, would drop her defenses. One she wanted desperately to keep erected…

She chose her words carefully. "We never talked about it."

"'Ro, I saw the way you went to him. We all did. We saw the way he reacted to you. ONLY to you. Not to anyone else. Not even Logan, his own blood. Sometimes actions are louder than words-"

Her temper flared as she looked hotly at her friend. Outside, the skies began to darken as she hissed through clenched teeth. "Actions? Jean! He LEFT me. Do you KNOW how that feels? He NEVER said a word. What was I supposed to think? _How _was I supposed to feel?"

The room began to grow dark as the clouds turned from white, to gray, to black.

"And do you KNOW what he did? THIS."

The house reverberated with thunder as the rain beat harder on the windows, and lightning split the sky.

She reached around her neck, snatching off the glittering diamond necklace and throwing it across the room. It hit the far window with a bang and landed on the floor.

"THAT. _That's_ what he left me with. A payment. So however I felt about him, he obviously didn't give a damn about me. He gave me a collar. Like that was enough."

A crack of lightening hit something close to the house, causing the lights to flicker, and then go off, plunging the room into darkness.

Realizing she'd lost control, and her anger momentarily abated, Ororo sat back in the couch she'd been sharing with Jean and sighed, closing her eyes a moment to exhale, while Jean rose to find something to light the room.

Somehow, voicing her feelings aloud was worse than when they'd been lurking in the back of her mind. It was the thing that kept her angry. The thing that kept her from him. Her resentment kept her bleeding heart at bay.

Soon, the dim glow of candlelight flickered in front of her as Jean returned.

"Feel better?"

She smiled faintly, shaking her head.

"You're getting as bad as Charles with that, you know."

"I do know. But you needed it. And you're my friend. You'd do the same for me. Now, let's go. The guys are probably in the basement trying to find the fuse box. And I don't know about you, but I don't trust Scott's eyes or Logan's hands."

That made her laugh again as the two women rose from the couch in the library, and walked toward the door.

* * *

_***Author's note: Edited by Dearland. Thanks you guys for sticking with me on this. I appreciated. I am debating on whether to break this story into a sequel or a trilogy, so if you have ideas, drop me a line. **_


	8. Chapter 8

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 8**

Victor slid out of sight behind the door as the women walked past him. He'd seen her enter the library, and figured it would be a good place to get her alone. Unfortunately, she hadn't been. So he'd tried to wait for her, only to hear the two of them.

Every word she'd spoken about him, played in a loop in his head, painting pictures so vivid he felt it had only been moments before when he'd held her…

Fuck.

This shit was frustrating as all hell.

Why was she being so difficult?

Victor ran a hand through his now short hair and resisted the urge to growl. Instead, he walked into the library. It was still dark, but his eyesight compensated for the lack of light and adjusted to the room around him. The drapes were open, letting moonlight shine through. He glanced around quickly, but stopped when he caught something sparkling on the floor by the far window.

The object held his attention and he walked toward it.

Bending down, he slowly picked up the glittering diamond necklace from the floor and held it gingerly in his hands.

"_Can we pay you with a check?"_

_Did this guy take him for a fool? Irritated and annoyed, Victor reached across the table and lifted the short, fat bald man up by the front of his jacket._

_The room was dingy. A basement really, underneath a non-descript brownstone in the middle of upscale Brooklyn._

_No one would ever think anything so sinister could happen in THEIR neighborhood._

_Right now, there were dozens of cops above them, combing the streets, looking for a suspect they called, "the butcher."_

_In the past three days, twelve bodies had been found in various forms of dismemberment. _

_Disemboweled, throats slit…skulls opened…_

_It made him laugh, watching the evening news as they covered the cases._

_If the cops knew how to do their jobs, the first thing they should have known was that all the cases were connected. But of course, the idiotic mass of humanity never looked at the things in front of them_

_They were so easy. Almost too easy._

_Still, he'd done a job. Done it damn good too- and now, this fool had the audacity to insult him—a check?_

_He growled low in his throat, tightening his grip around the fat man's neck as he brought him closer, letting him get a good look at just how close to death he was._

_The familiar, sharp pains in his fingers shot through his body as his claws protracted slowly, splitting the skin of his cuticles so they could unfurl to their full length._

_The guys eyes went wide and he began to stutter. " o-o-or...th—th-the u-u-usual w—w-way is fine."_

"_Good."_

_He dropped "fat-ass" to the floor._

"_You got an hour. Have my money, or I'll have your head. If you run, it'll only make me mad."_

_With that, he strode out the basement walkway and past the dozens of cop cars on the street, down the sidewalk, and disappeared into the subway station._

_Twenty minutes later, he got off the train and walked right into downtown Manhattan with time to burn. Ruth's Chris Steakhouse was the destination. He liked it rare. Still bloody, purple in the middle. Slightly charred on either side. They did them the best._

_He turned a corner to head in that direction when he stopped in front of the glass window._

_Seeing the object, he went inside._

_He didn't bother looking in the lines of glass cases before him. Instead, he went up to a tall slim man dressed in a ridiculously tight suit. _

_He suppressed a shudder of annoyance._

"_I want the necklace in the window."_

_The man looked at him up and down, his face showing obvious disdain._

"_It's VERY expensive…sir. Perhaps somewhere else can better assist you."_

_He laughed, low and deep, at the attempted insult._

_And as he laughed, his lips parted slightly, intentionally, letting the man get a full view of the long incisors. Seeing his face blanch at the sight, he stopped laughing, the point having been made._

"_I didn't ask you how much it cost. Go. Get. It."_

_One hand extended from out of his pocket and began to drum the glass counter tops._

_Looking down at the rapidly growing claws, the clerk quickly obliged._

"_Right away sir."_

_Fifteen minutes later, and his bank account about 50-thousand lighter, Victor strode out the store, on his way to a steak, his "business" temporarily set aside. The urge to get back to her was strong. And, fingering the box in his pocket, he was starting to wonder at what point getting back to her, had become a simile for getting "home." He'd never had one before. _

He closed his fist around the object twinkling in his hand, and moved to the door.

"Victor."

Fuck.

Xavier.

He saw the man wheel himself through the double doors of the library and head toward his way.

"What do you want?" he attempted to give a hard look at the figure seated in the wheelchair.

"There seems to be a problem with the electricity," the professor said placidly, not buying into the bait.

"Yeah…I noticed," he said evasively.

"Do you, now? You know, you haven't been to my office yet."

_And I'm not planning too, _he stayed his tongue.

"Perhaps, you might want to come by for a visit. There is still the matter of your missing memories to consider. Whenever you have time, I'll be waiting."

With that, the professor left, leaving him alone.

After a moment, the lights above began to flicker, until they were finally on.

This couldn't go on. This back and forth.

He was done chasing. Tonight, he'd go directly to her. She'd have no choice but to hear him then.

**.**

**.**

She was tired but could not get to sleep. It had been a trying day. There were only two people in the house who could always read her- Charles and Jean. And while she could always talk with the Professor, he was male. And the extent of his understanding only went so far. There were also things one could only share with another woman.

In the near-silence of the night, Ororo could hear the sounds of the house. The faint tick of the grandfather clock, a floor below. The sounds of a floor board loose somewhere, and someone stepping on it so that it creaked. The rustle of wind against the windows- no matter how well insulated, it always amazed her at the wind's ability to tap out a sound.

And soon, her ears were met with another. A knock at her door, followed by a voice, resonantly male.

"It's Victor."

Instead of responding, she turned around in her bed to face the wall as the knob to the door turned slowly.

Tomorrow, she would have to revise her "open door" policy.

He slipped across the floor almost silently. For someone so large, it always amazed her how light his feet were. Then again, it made sense, considering his lupine mutations. But she wouldn't have heard him enter, had she not been awake. And she wouldn't have seen him moving, had she not watched his shadow on the wall.

Was this the way he approached his victims? The ease at which he moved showed it was as natural to him as breathing. Most likely.

"Ororo."

He was directly beside her bed, and she could feel his eyes looking down at her.

She kept her eyes closed and chose not to respond.

"'Ro…"

The bed shifted under his weight as he sat down beside her.

"Listen to me. I know you ain't sleep. Ro, I didn't mean to leave you -"

He stopped, hesitating uncharacteristically on the words. She heard him mutter a curse, suck in a breath, then exhale.

Her hostility subsided a bit at his obvious discomfort and unease, replaced with an internal laugh. How ironic that the man so many people despised and feared, the same so cocky and defiant, should actually be nervous about something! It was utterly absurd, but would have been endearing if she hadn't been so mad to begin with.

Still, she knew better than to respond.

"I ain't no good at this shit. Look. I wanted to protect you. From me. I didn't want you to know what I was. Who I was. So I left. I…ran."

Silence filled the room and the space between him, and what was left of the strands of anger she was holding on too, were rapidly disappearing under the weight of his confession.

Seeming to realize that she wasn't going to respond to him, the bed shifted again as Victor rose.

She felt the blankets around her hips begin to move and a gentle brush of his forearm against her back as he pulled the blankets about her shoulders made her body tingle.

His hand froze at her shoulder. It had been three weeks since he cut her, but the wound was still healing. Instead of the surgical gauze wrap she'd worn for the first two weeks, there were now two large white bandages, one for the front and one for the back.

It was…different.

The lights were off, and there was darkness around them. She knew he wouldn't do such a thing if the lights were on.

There was a rustle, the sound of fabric moving together as he changed position, and, unseen to her, pulled something shiny from out of his pocket.

The bed shifted once again and this time, she felt a rush of warmth as his body moved over hers. She stayed still- unsure, until she felt the familiar sensation of gentle scratching across the back of her neck- his hands, as he secured the necklace she'd snatched off in anger.

Warm lips met at the place between her shoulder blades that held the clasp, and she couldn't help but exhale at the feel of his lips on her skin.

"I never wanted it to end this way. I want you. I need you."

With that, the bed shifted for the final time that night, and she waited, until she heard the door open and close, and was sure he was gone.

In the darkness, she rolled over and let out a shuddery sigh, tears forming in the corner of her eyes.

**.**

**.**

He walked quickly down the grand, spiral staircase of the mansion headed toward the front door of the house. He couldn't stay there that night.

His need was too great.

There was only one objective, and two things that could release the burning in his mind, the buildup- the frustration, the energy. The rush was alive through his body — and since the outlet he preferred was unavailable…there was only one other way to relieve himself.

Victor stepped out the door into the cold, crisp night. Lowering himself into the snow on all fours, he assumed a running stance- and darted off into the shadow of the horizon before him. He'd be back in the morning, but right now, he needed release.

**.**

_A lone figure watched the scene before him silently, his lips curving into a smile. All the pieces were in place. He shook his head. How soft Victor had gotten. It always amazed him how men fell victim to pussy. Now he had not one, but two bargaining chips. Victor had so many flaws it was hard to choose which one to exploit. As he watched from his perch on top of the hill overlooking the mansion, into its windows through the high- powered scopes around his eyes, the exact form of exploitation began to take shape._

_Someone was leaving for the night, but he knew from what he'd seen, the cat would go back. All he had to do was wait — and call in a few favors. He needed the beast back. And he'd do whatever it took to get him._

_

* * *

__***Author's Note: Edited by Dearland. Thanks everyone for taking the time to read and review. I don't beg for reviews, so each one means a lot to me.**__  
_


	9. Chapter 9

**In His Skin **

**Chapter 9**

She was awakened by a knock at her door before the sun had made its appearance in the sky.

"Ororo, Professor Xavier is calling a meeting in his office."

Jean.

She rolled over, still floating in that space between conscious and unconscious.

Had last night been just a dream? She opened her eyes, looking out into the darkness of her room, black shadows slowly coming into focus and forming real objects. She sat up, slowly stretching her limbs.

As she did, something scratched against her neck. One hand moved upwards, fingers touching round, hard stones.

It hadn't been a dream.

Nervous butterflies began to dance in her belly as she rolled off the bed, and began to dress. Excitement, fear, and warmth flooding her body as she recounted his touch against her skin, his lips at the back of her neck…

She pushed the thoughts down.

Charles was calling.

Her good mood vanished, however, when she approached the bottom floors of the house and entered the conference room.

The entire team was there.

Logan sat at the far end of the large, oval table, visibly angry, his dark features darkened considerably, clenching and un-clenching his fists.

Scott and Remy (who she assumed must have just come back from wherever he'd been the past several weeks) were presently engaged in a heated debate with Charles, who sat in the center of the table, his stern features etched with concern and worry.

Jean was looking on quietly, her face tense. But they all stopped when she walked in.

"Am I intruding?" she asked wryly, taking an open seat at the other end of the table.

"Not at all, Ororo. Thank you for joining us. It seems we have a situation-" the professor was cut off by an outburst from Logan.

"A situation we wouldn't have had to have if you'da let me finish what I started."

"What's going on here?" She said, looking from face to face.

Scott only shook his head but picked up a remote on the table and aimed it at the black canvas on the wall. Instantly the screen began to glow with images being run through the projector.

She watched as the wall began to play video of a wide field, high with yellowed grass. People moved back and forth as helicopters circled over head, and white mounds were being moved by emergency response teams hoisting stretchers.

"_Six bodies have been recovered in Baydon Greene so far with police not saying how many more are still there. The victims range in age from the mid-20's through 60-years and have not yet been identified. There is talk of foul play, and while law enforcement hasn't described the full condition of the bodies, our sources say there were significant slashing wounds- like that of a large bear or cat. However, no such animals exist in the area…"_

The volume of the stereo system lowered and the voices on the projection faded out.

"I say we put him down."

She could tell Logan was pissed and a quick glance around the room showed that his sentiment, while not verbally expressed by the others, was the prevailing thought.

Still, the actions on the monitor versus what she'd experienced last night were so opposed to each other, it made her hesitate.

She turned her attention to the professor, sitting solemnly at the head of the table.

"Have you spoken with Victor?"

"He is not here."

Her heart sank at the pronouncement. The fear that she'd been wrong starting to mix with betrayal and hurt. Still…

"I don't think we should move so fast to find him guilty. He's not here to defend himself."

"So says the one who's fuckin' him? Really 'Ro, we should just take your word on his innocence because he's got you wrapped around his-"

Logan didn't have a chance to finish lobbing the insult before she was up and across the table and had slapped him so hard his head snapped to the left.

Her hand stung, but not more than the anger she felt swell to the surface.

The house shook as lightening struck somewhere close.

Scott interjected between the two of them as the room became uncomfortably quiet- the only sound was her heavy breathing as she worked to control the rage building within her. "Ororo, we think you should sit this one out. Let us handle it. You're too emotionally involved."

She glared at Scott, then around the table and finally at the professor.

"Ororo, if, or when he returns, he'll be taken here. If he's innocent, that will be the end of it. However, if he's guilty…then we will surrender him to the proper authorities."

Furious at her friends and herself, she nodded curtly and left the room.

**.**

**.**

It took several hours before she could regain even a semblance of calm. But thankfully, the children proved enough of a distraction.

Her classes of the day were filled with the elementary grades, from four toddlers, to a class of 10-year- olds. They were a handful, and she spent her time chasing them around while trying to focus their attention on their work.

Still, she could only remain distracted to a certain point. When she walked the halls, she saw clusters of students talking quietly among themselves or watching one of the many televisions posted around the house.

And while she knew that none of them knew her involvement, it was clear from the snatches of conversation that word of Victor's implications in the crimes was the making the rounds.

She sighed with resignation at the whole thing, so emotionally tired that her anger had long fizzled out into an air of detachment.

At one point, while playing with a group of the smaller students outside, she had the feeling that someone was watching her. But when she looked into the house, there was nothing.

True to their word, the "team" hadn't told her anything. And she supposed they wouldn't. After all, they were right, as much as she hated to admit it, she was compromised.

**.**

**.**

The sun was just breaking in the sky when he arrived back at the house. The white puffs he exhaled preceded him as he shook himself off, knocked the caked snow and dirt off his shoes, and walked back inside.

It was early, but not so early that the students were still asleep.

They were already milling about, and he made sure to walk directly to his room. He didn't much care for interaction with kids. It was never a good situation. But as he moved through the halls he began to notice that the ones who'd never paid much attention to him before were now staring. He would catch their eyes, they'd look away. Or hurry in another direction. They'd scatter like roaches.

Soon he had his answer as to why.

A group of ten kids, the older teenagers, were gathered around the foyer by the staircase, standing in front of the large, flat-screen television that was currently blaring with the annoying voice of some too-big boobed blonde, talking-head anchor for a local station.

"Bodies were found mutilated…."

Listening, he quickly became aware of the implications and the reason for all the staring.

Shit.

He had to find her. And once he did, he'd leave for good.

He ducked his head and walked quickly down the hall, then another - empty, to his fortune, before starting to seek her out.

She was easy to find. He followed the combination of flowers and rain that was uniquely her to the back of the mansion and ultimately outside. He stopped just short of walking through the doors, choosing to stay out of sight and slipping behind a wall and into the shadows.

He watched her, carefully watching the smallest of the children as they played outside, unaware of the danger of the world beyond. Too innocent to know evil. Too small to know pain. Too young to feel anger.

It was a sunny, crisp day, slightly warmer than the one before, but not by much.

A breeze blew her white hair around her face, and he took a moment to admire the way it gleamed in sharp contrast to her dark skin. He remembered the way it felt, soft and warm under his touch.

One of the little ones fell, and immediately started to cry.

The sound was muffled, but his hearing was sharp as she moved and knelt beside the little boy, a mutt -he could tell, by the wave of the hair, the not-quite skin and hazel eyes.

He didn't miss a thing. Watching as she ran her hand across the boy's head and down his arms- inspecting for damage, no doubt, all the while speaking softly in words of comfort.

Maybe in another life, he could have seen her like this. With a little boy that looked like that—that looked like the best of them, the best of _him_. He shook his head, knowing better to dwell on what-if scenarios.

The chime of the grandfather clock began to sound, signaling the end of one class, and the start of another.

Hearing it, she looked up, gathered the children about her and began walking back to the house.

As soon as she stepped through, the little ones took off again, running down the hall toward their next destinations. He took a step back, deeper into the shadows of the wall by the door where he'd been watching her as the students filled the halls.

He couldn't stay in this place much longer. But Victor didn't believe in leaving things unfinished. It was a mistake to leave her the way he did the first time, their relationship unresolved, unfinished. This time, before he had to leave, he'd do right by her. Even if he couldn't do right FOR her.

"Victor…"

He'd recognized that smell and that growl anywhere.

Turning around, he came face to face with Logan, Scott and Remy. The three men were standing in his way so she couldn't move beyond them.

"You need to come with us. Don't make it the hard way."

* * *

_***Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for taking the time to read and review, I really appreciate it. I have been asked who the mystery person is, and to be honest, I don't really know. I am torn between two options, one from the movie-verse, and one from the comic verse. If you have some suggestions for an antagonist, drop me a line, either in review or pm. Tell me WHY this person would make a good villain, and they might make their way into this story. I am seeking input with this particular element as I begin constructing the second-half of this story. This chapter is unedited. All mistakes are mine.  
_


	10. Chapter 10

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 10**

He had waited long enough for Victor to come on his own. His only regret was that he would now have to see him under circumstances that were less favorable than he preferred.

Still, Charles Xavier had spent these last three weeks observing his guest.

Over that time he noticed that Victor tended to move about the house when the children were otherwise preoccupied.

He preferred to stay in the shadows, and was more active at night. That in itself was not surprising. Most of the adults in the house tended to prefer the nighttime hours as well.

What WAS unusual, was his docility.

From the violence he'd displayed when they had first brought him to the mansion, and the bursts of rage when they'd held him in isolation- to now. The change was like night and day.

At first, Xavier believed it to be a ploy.

Victor was well-known for his ability to deceive. However, a chance observation revealed that was not the case.

He had been in his own quarters, allowing his mind to expand over the house, and was observing people in various stages of their night time activities- the children sleeping, or those who were supposed to be sleeping, playing games in their rooms. The adults, Logan especially- pacing aimlessly on the back porch, Jean and Scott had been away, and Ororo was in her room.

He didn't intrude, merely observed.

And so he saw, with his mind, when Victor approached her door, knocked, then went in. Curious, he decided to linger a bit longer. Not listening, just watching.

The care Victor took with her was amazing. It was a Victor he doubted anyone in the house would have known. But he'd seen enough to know that this was no trick. It was real.

And it was genuine.

And it left Xavier wondering, which was the real Victor? Was it the animal they had held in the confines of the lower levels of the mansion? The one that had growled, and roared, and gnashed at them? The one with the blood of mutants and humans alike on his hands?

Or was it this other - more man than monster. Angry, yes, but tempered by something deeper…anchored…

Or perhaps they were one and the same. And _that_ was where the danger lay.

His musings were interrupted when the door to his study opened, bringing Scott, Logan, Gambit and Victor inside.

He motioned for the others to leave, and Victor simply looked at him, his face impassive.

"You have not come to see me."

"Well, seems now I don't have a choice, Doc."

"There is always a choice. Why do you stay here?"

Xavier eyed his subject intently, watching for any change, or show of discomfort. Victor's gaze on him held equally steady, unflinching.

RESOLVE. That had NOT been lost then.

"Why do you ask questions you know the answer to?" Victor hadn't moved from his place by the door. But those steely blue eyes remained firmly planted on him, watching, Xavier knew, for any sign of deception. Victor's response made one eye brow on his forehead rise higher than the other.

So, his presence last night had not gone unnoticed after all.

"I need your thoughts, Victor."

He saw the flinch—the tensing of the shoulders, the flexing of the jaw, the narrowing of the eyes.

He waited to see what the other would do. But there was no resistance only silence. Finally, after a long, tense moment, Victor spoke, his voice low, coming out more as a rumble. But Xavier heard him clearly.

"I need _her_ to trust me. Fuck the others."

He nodded slowly, realizing it was as close to permission as Victor would allow.

"You will not notice me."

"Too late for that doc. Get on with it. Ain't nothing there ya'll don't already know anyway."

Xavier's eyes slipped closed as he extended one hand toward Victor's head.

**.**

**.**

_The place he was in was…unexpected. Not the mindscape one would expect to find in a man like Victor._

_Instead of the red flames he had anticipated this was…calm. But yet the red persisted._

_A red desert…dotted with shrubs…warm dust blew up all around him…and in the distance, a mirage—a figure…_

_Female…_

_He began walking toward it as it moved and bended - melded_ _with the rock and re-emerged…a shadow guide…to where, he did not know._

_As he walked he looked down at his form. Bare fee t— toenails, no - claws…_

_He looked at his arms, thicker, longer…hairier than his own…a body…strong and angular—he had certainly not looked as defined as this- not even in his prime._

_He felt…heavier…but his step was light._

_And for a moment he stopped to relish in the feel of physical movement. The ability to step. To place one foot before the other. Liberation from a body that at times failed him…to one that was virtually indestructible. _

_He felt the power. The rush. The burn…_

_He was himself and yet not. _

_The shadow always stayed by him, and, regaining himself, he followed._

_It was hot._

_The sweltering waves of heat began to take its toll on his form, rolling off his body in waves…sucking the life force from him…_

_Fatigue…_

_How long had he been wandering in this place…_

_Closer, and closer he came…the shadow becoming clearer…in focus…until- he felt something wet beneath his feet…_

_And looked down._

_Water - for his thirst._

_Xavier fell to his knees and began to drink urgently, greedily...until, his body screamed for more and he submerged his entire head into the cool water and rose back up - letting it purify his mind, course through his body…_

_Life giving…_

_Refreshing…_

_Renewing…_

_Yet when he lifted his face out the water, Xavier/Victor saw himself for the first time. The reflection of two men, but one and the same…one dark, short hair…one long and blond, wild and savage…_

_Both man, and beast. _

"_Victor."_

_He looked up expecting the shadow once again._

_Yet in its stead was a figure, more solid. Female._

_Brown, white and blue._

_It shimmered, before slowly coming into focus before his eyes, closer and closer still…_

_He spoke her name as she materialized before him. Her hair billowing like clouds in the air. her skin like Earth, glowing radiant, blending into the colors of the desert._

_Warm lips met his; soft fingers grazed his skin…_

_Refreshing - He tasted._

_The world around him began to spin as the colors slowly began to whirl…_

_The panic swelled within him as she began to morph again, fade away…_

_No!_

_He reached out — anxious to grab her, to hold on to her, but his arms went through her and she vanished like a mirage, leaving him alone in a world of darkness…._

_Until._

_He opened his eyes. The scene changed._

_Deep in the woods, he was walking…_

_The air was humid._

_Night was high, but he saw clearly._

_The heat shapes in the night._

_Deer. _

_Slowly, he lowered himself onto all fours, and began to stalk._

_A fresh kill…_

_The sensation of blood on his hands…claws into flesh…fear in the eyes…_

_A glint of light off into the distance halted his advance. He paused, sniffing the air._

_Different._

_Something…other…_

_Curiosity._

_Anger._

_These were HIS hunting grounds…_

_He turned, and began moving toward the light…_

_It grew brighter and brighter, as he got closer. A form, solid. Cylindrical. Steel. It grew larger as he approached, alert, cautious. _

_Glowing shapes slowly emerged… orbiting each other…expanding and contracting…growing larger and larger before him…_

_He was fascinated by the sight, momentarily letting his guard down. One moment- a second too late, and his body was seized, a dark force slowly expanding around…choking…he gasped…until he couldn't…_

_Then everything went black._

_**.**_

_**.**_

Xavier's eyes snapped open quickly, his breath coming in pants.

"What?"

"What happened? What did you see?"

Victor looked at him, an expression of genuine concern etched across his face.

He raised his hand for silence, while his mind whirled with all that he had seen.

"Victor, what do you remember prior to your memory lapse?" Xavier asked, once his chest had finally stopped constricting, and he was calm again.

"I told ya, I don't."

"No…no I believe you. I accessed a part of your mind—there's a large portion that has been blocked off- I was…ejected. Not by you—by something else."

"You mean someone else is inside my head?"

Now he looked almost scared, his normally narrow eyes slightly widened.

"No. But I think you saw something you weren't supposed too. And someone, or something, made sure you would forget."

"You can't fix it? You're a fuckin' telepath for God's-sake."

"I didn't know you believed in God," Xavier responded drily.

"I'm agnostic. But that's beside the point. What you're sayin' is, it can't be fixed."

"I did not say that. I said it can't be fixed by _me_. But Victor, do you really want to go back?" he asked while Creed turned away from him and walked toward a window overlooking the front of the property.

After a long bout of silence, the larger man spoke again.

"Did you get what you were lookin' for?"

The professor sighed. "Yes I did. You are innocent."

"Good."

Victor still didn't look up as he walked to the door. A sudden thought occurred to Xavier and he spoke up before Victor could clear the entryway.

"Victor, you can stay here as long as you need too."

His guest paused momentarily in the doorway, but still didn't look back. "Don't worry. I won't be much longer."

With that, the door closed, leaving Xavier to his thoughts, turning more and more to the glowing masses he had seen in Victor's mind.

There was danger ahead. And people would be hurt. This he felt with certainty.

**.**

**.**

When he'd gone into Xavier's office, the sun had still been up.

Now, it was dark.

Looking out the windows, at the moon shining over the manicured front lawns of the mansion, he estimated the time to be around ten o'clock.

His mind swarmed with the implications of all that he had learned. During the meld, he hadn't felt or seen anything, but the passage of time showed him the telepath had been at work for some time.

And after he was done, there were still no answers.

Victor was growing restless. He wasn't stupid. For the last several weeks he'd spent his time prowling around the mansion, staying out of sight, trying to figure it out for himself. A part of him had hoped that his time with Xavier would have given him something more. But there was nothing.

He knew he wasn't himself. He was a man, not quite whole.

He'd come with nothing. And now, after tonight, he'd be leaving with nothing.

When he looked up again, he was only mildly surprised.

His feet had walked him back to _her_ door.

One final goodbye, then he'd leave her too, for good. But this time, he'd do it right.


	11. Chapter 11

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 11**

Her entire body was as restless as her mind. She could not sleep. The sheets tangled around her legs, sticking to her skin along with the nightgown that was now soaked through.

Finally, she opened her eyes, threw the blankets and sheets on the floor and walked to the window. Quickly unlocking the latch, she threw it open, letting in a swift, icy gust of wind.

As she shed the sticky gown, her bedroom door opened.

**.**

**.**

He stopped a moment, watching her, completely naked in front of the window, her skin glistening, the moon's light bouncing off her hair.

It was completely irrational, he knew this, but at the moment, she seemed to glow.

His eyes followed the curve of her back. Two dimples marked the spot where hips expanded into a full, round ass. Where thighs met then gave way to strong calves, curving into slim ankles…He walked toward her, but stopped when she spoke, still not turning to face him.

"You're still here."

"Yeah."

He saw the outline of her chest heave with a sigh, the exhalation of warm breath casting a puff of white air into the darkness before them.

Slowly, he walked closer to her, until he was right behind her, his clothing, touching her bare skin.

He warmed, just from the feel of her, closer to him now than she'd been in years, insulating him from the elements. She turned around, suddenly, looking up at him.

He didn't move.

**.**

**.**

She raised one hand to his chest, letting it rest there to feel his heartbeat.

It was a steady drum, the pulse beating against her fingers. He stood still as she began to undress him, complying when she un-tucked his shirt, and pulled it over his head.

He was still quiet when her nimble hands began working on his buckle, sliding the belt out through the loops, and letting it hit the floor with a soft thump.

She heard him inhale sharply, when her hands began unbuttoning his jeans, sliding the zipper down, and pushing his pants off his hips, onto the floor.

And she felt him shudder when she pulled down the boxer briefs, her fingers skimming along the thick thatch of hair, and grazing his penis as it sprang free.

"Ro…" Her name came out as a thick, husky whisper.

"Shhhh…"

She continued her perusal, shifting closer to his now naked body, her eyes drinking in the contours of his thighs, remembering the way he balanced her weight on them as he pumped into her…

The smooth, ridged, flat planes of his stomach- the muscles taut, and contracting as he resisted the urge not to touch her…a trail of thick, dark hair leading up to his wide chest, nipples hard from the cold- or the heat- or maybe a combination of both.

She ran her hands through the hair, against his skin…down his arms, and ultimately up and around his neck as his control broke and he pulled her flush against him, his arms engulfing her, his hands reaching around her waist to slip under her butt and lift her up, off the floor.

She felt the nip of his claws against the cleft of her ass as he squeezed, moving a leg between hers to pry them open, putting his body between them. Her legs wrapped around his waist for balance, as he began groping and humping against her, his cock grew hard as he moved it back and forth… spreading her nether lips open, rocking against her clit, teasing…

Her body shuddered against him, as he stimulated her — his member coated with her juices as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm…

Her moan was muted when his lips met hers in a kiss, hard with need, his sharp canines scraping against her bottom lip so hard she tasted copper…

The orgasm hit hard, causing her to arch as he pushed her back, resting her ass against the open window's sill.

She heard him growl low in his throat as her nails scraped down his back, drawing blood.

He came with a grunt and groan as he buried his face between her breasts, her fingers scraping his scalp as she cradled his head in her hands…

**.**

**.**

He didn't let her recover.

As soon as he released, he was ready again. But he wanted it to last. He wanted to taste, to savor.

Her body trembled in his arms; soft gasps met his ears, as he lowered her onto the window sill. She gripped his shoulders, as he knelt before her, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, for balance.

There was no real worry. She'd fly before she fell.

He spread trembling legs once again, lifting them over his shoulders to lower his face to her center, wet and glistening before him.

Her lips met his, tasting the salty-sweetness on his tongue as he suckled gently on the folds, feeling her grip on his head tighten, and her legs stiffen around his neck.

She moaned as he pushed deeper, brown lips parting to a soft pink, as he slipped between her legs to work in…out…

She cried out and he felt her muscles begin to spasm once more. He didn't stop…gently taking her clit between his lips, tugging gently…

He watched her eyes slip closed and her mouth fall open in a silent scream when she came in his mouth.

**.**

**.**

When she came back down from her orgasm high, he was waiting, watching her intently as her chest heaved.

It felt like her entire body was electrified, sensitive to even the slightest of touches.

A wind gust swept around her, caressing her open thighs. It made her shudder and fall into his waiting arms.

He picked her up, gently. This time she rested her head against his shoulder as he moved them to the bed, setting her down gently, before moving on top of her, pushing his knee between her legs to open her up again.

His arms encircled her, his chest against her breasts as he positioned himself at her opening. He began to move his hips and she could feel the head of his penis pushing against her, probing, demanding entry.

She raised her hips and opened her legs wider, feeling it slip in. The sensation of him expanding her walls sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her body.

He stopped moving, now fully sheathed within her, feeling the muscles contract and spasm around his cock as her legs shook once again.

He groaned…the sound coming out as a low rumble as he slowly began to move again, pulling out slowly, savoring the warmth all around him.

She tensed again, as he drew all the way out, pausing just for a moment, before plunging back in fast, and hard- forcing a whimper from her lips.

He buried his face in between her neck and shoulder as he began to move. Hard, fast…pushing in deep, until he couldn't go any further.

Her moans rang in his ears, urging him on as her long fingernails once again raked down his back and she shuddered and writhed under him.

She grew more vocal as he shifted their weight to raise her hips higher, giving him better access and depth.

He was drowning in sensation and sound…the feel of her touch on his skin, the grip she had on him, the sound of her pleasure ringing in his ears…

It hit him like lightning. A white-hot spasm shot directly from his cock up through his groin. He roared as he released his seed deep in her womb, filling her.

**.**

**.**

She curled into his body as they lay on their sides, his chest pressed against her back, his hands resting against her belly, listening to the steady sound of her breathing.

He knew she wasn't asleep.

"Ro…"

"Yes, Victor?" she whispered softly.

He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent- the combination of fresh rain and flowers that was so uniquely her.

"I told you once I wasn't no good for you."

"Yes, you did."

"I-"

"I never asked you to be."

The words died on his lips.

She didn't turn to face him, but one of her hands met his and her fingers curled between his, stroking his claws. "I knew what you were. WHO you were. I was waiting for you to say something. You never did. So I never brought it up."

"You didn't say nothin'."

"Why should I have? I was…happy."

_Happy…_

The word rang through his head.

She had been happy. She'd known, and she'd stayed.

"You're going to leave me again, aren't you? This is goodbye again, isn't it?"

Her voice was low, but steady and to his surprise, he didn't hear sadness but…acceptance.

"I gotta figure things out."

She nuzzled closer, the cleft of her ass once again moving against him, making his manhood grow hard between her cheeks.

"I know."

He felt an overwhelming urge to squeeze her tight, and he did, long and hard before rolling her over onto her belly and moving onto her back.

She raised her hips to greet him, parting her legs to give him access, as he slipped between them resting himself against her back as he began to thrust, slipping right again into nirvana.

Her fingers wrapped around his as he thrust, slower, this time…even…drawing out their pleasure…making love to her in a way he'd never done before…

"Victor…"

His name slipped once again from her lips as he held her down with his body, continuing on with the pace. Her pussy contracted with every pulse between her thighs…slow…deep...

He kept their bodies close together, his chest against her back as his cock slid beneath the cleft of her cheeks to disappear inside her…each thrust almost agonizing in its intensity…

He shuddered as tremors of pleasure wracked his body.

He lowered his mouth to the back of her neck, his teeth grazing the smooth skin.

He bit down- muffling the sound of his orgasm as he once again emptied himself between her thighs.  
.

* * *

_**Author's Notes: This chapter is unedited, all mistakes are mine. **_

_***I have begun writing the second part of this story and am in need of some assistance. I am looking for someone who is knowledgeable in the XMen comic-universe. If you'd like to assist, please drop me a note. Also, I do need someone who is 18 or older, as this is a story for adults. Thank you all. **_


	12. Chapter 12

**In His Skin**

**Chapter 12**

When she awoke in the morning, the space next to her in the bed was empty. She ran a hand across the rumpled sheets—still warm, so he couldn't have gone far.

The window was still open and as gust of cold air blew through and tickled her skin she bit back a sudden hot flash of the way his lips had done the same.

She threw the sheets off—noticing they were ripped- and after standing and stretching, got her first assessment of her bed.

The mattress- or what was left of it—was split—ten long gashes at the top half revealed the stuffing on the inside. She'd have to buy a new one today and have this one thrown out.

But she couldn't bring herself to regret such an inconsequential loss. It had been worth it.

_His_ shirt was still on the floor, along with his belt, and it gave her comfort in the fact that he was still somewhere in the mansion. He hadn't left. At the thought, she felt a sharp pang in her chest. _Yet. _

Trudging over to the bathroom, she opened the door, turned on the light, and got her first look at herself from the effects of the night before.

Damn.

Staring back at her was a familiar face, with swollen lips, puffy eyes, and—

She winced as she turned her head, the skin tight on the back of her neck. Pulling her hair up, she pulled out a drawer, grabbed a mirror, turned around and held it up- and gasped.

A love-bite didn't even BEGIN to describe it.

All she could do was curse in her head, because it wouldn't do a bit of good to say the words aloud.

And as she held the mirror up- she got a good look at the skin on her wrists.

Red bruises starting to turn colors…

She could only imagine what Logan would think. They had tactical training first thing this morning. Going to her drawers she moved to find a black turtleneck shirt, and maybe some gloss for her lips. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice, or pay that much attention.

She ignored the sinking feeling in her stomach.

**.**

He was outside before the sun split the sky, waiting, and watching. Days ago he'd found a tree on the back end of the property worth climbing. Now, he was up top, balanced comfortably on one of the large branches. It gave him a good view of the mansion—with its manicured gardens and spacious backyards. The sun hadn't come up yet, but he'd awoke a few hours after falling into sleep, with his mate curled up and naked in his arms. That's how he wanted to remember her. No clothes, just as natural as the day she'd come into the world.

He'd left her sleeping, and, grabbing only his pants (he'd collect the rest of his things later) he'd made his way outside before anyone else in the house was up, and toward this tree.

Now, he could watch as windows began to glow dimly as the people inside began to rise for the day. He waited until her window began to glow, and focused his sight into her room. He'd climbed down from the same window they'd opened the night before, and he was pleased to see she hadn't closed it.

He could see her clearly this way, watched her as she rose from her bed, still nude, breasts full and heavy. He even chuckled a bit at how a brush of cold wind made her nipples hard. Even though cold air didn't bother her, it could still have an impact.

She went back and forth in the room, and his eyes followed eagerly, until ultimately she disappeared into the bathroom.

When she dipped out again, she was dressed in a black turtle neck and loose pants, her white hair hanging down her back with the top half in a pony tail.

He felt a tinge of disappointment at seeing her with clothing. He'd marked her for a reason—and it wasn't so that she'd cover herself up.

The devil in him smiled at the thought. He knew she'd see Logan today. A white fang peeked out from his lips, parted in a smirk.

He could only imagine the fit his brother would throw. It gave him a surge of power, and pride.

He'd claimed his mate last night. She was his, and fuck what anyone had to say about it.

Still, as if sensing him watching her, she walked toward the window, and seemingly knowing his location, her eyes slipped closed as she inhaled the freshness of morning, a smile spreading over her lips before she left.

The window was still open. He knew it was for him.

**.**

**.**

The students ran and jumped, ducked and blocked as the walls trembled and some barely missed falling debris. The scene was a war zone—loud explosions echoed overhead as the sky flashed red and white. There were flames, the heat and smoke was oppressive, and above all the yelling and the crashes were voices.

"Bobby! Keep moving! Look to your left! LEFT! No! The OTHER left! Rogue, DUCK!

Kitty! Dammit girl, block! Block!"

Warning sirens began going off and just as it looked as if there was no way out and the trio was completely surrounded by large imposing robotic sentinels with glowing red eyes…the lights flickered on. The smoke and fire began to dissipate, the room stopped shaking, and everything went still and silent.

"That's it. You three, to the briefing room," Logan's husky voice barked out the command from over the intercom system and the three teens, at once wincing at the lecture they were no doubt about to get, exited the gray simulation room through the door that had appeared at the far end of the wall.

From her view above, at ceiling level, Ororo watched them leave, heads down and walking slowly. She shook her head. Logan could be so brusque sometimes. She slowly drifted down from the ceiling, watching as Logan materialized over a downed pillar, and went toward him, her feet skimming on air until she touched down next to him.

"You don't have to be so hard on them, you know. They're still just kids."

He snorted as she fell in step beside him.

"Yeah. Kids who were about to become dust back there. They gotta learn to defend themselves-"

He stopped talking midsentence and looked at her strangely.

She stopped walking, looking at him quizzically. "What is it?"

"What's that on yer neck?"

Her hair had fallen away from her face and the side of her turtleneck was turned down, revealing the very tip of what she was trying to hide. She tossed her hair.

"It's nothing. Let's go to the kids."

She turned to leave but he grabbed her wrist—hurting the [newly] sensitive flesh - and she couldn't help but wince.

"Logan…"

"If that's nothing, then WHAT. IS. THIS?"

His eyes narrowed as he pulled the fabric up, revealing the bruises that had started forming. Deep, and purple…

She snatched her arm away and began walking off. "It's none of your concern. I hurt myself earlier."

"Doing what?"

"Mind your business, Logan." She snapped at him, her eyes sparkling with warning. He ignored it.

"This IS my business." He pressed on, growing angrier all the while. "I knew it. I knew this shit was gonna happen. You smell like him. HE did this didn't he?"

"No, _I_ did it. Now stop it." She was angry, her body flushed with heat as she glared at him tried to turn away.

But it didn't work. Suddenly, his face changed, grew darker as his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared, scenting…

The warning bells began to go off…

"Logan!" Quickly she moved toward him to block his path but he was too fast for her. Growling low in his throat, he crouched down then took off at a run out of the room, heading toward her chamber.

The sense of foreboding she'd felt all morning ballooned into full-blown panic as she took off right behind him, running—but she didn't have the superhuman speed and stamina Logan did. She just hoped she could stop what would be a nasty confrontation.

**.**

**.**

Logan had respected her wishes, up until this point. For the last month he'd stayed out of their way, but always kept an eye open for anything foul. He put _nothing_ past Victor! And now, here was Ororo, covered in fucking bruises, trying to deny it. And all he could think about was his dead Kayla—covered in bruises and blood, limp in his arms. When he saw Ro, he saw Kayla—Victor had taken too much. He couldn't allow him to do it again.

And something in him just snapped.

As soon as the smell in the air changed, he took off. There was one thing on his mind.

Logan burst through the door as Victor was putting the last of his belongings into a black duffle bag.

Seeing the look of pure rage on his brother's face, and knowing exactly what such a look meant, Victor quickly jumped back and protracted his claws, curling his body down into a fighting stance.

"Still a fuckin' animal," Logan said, three long blades extending from his hands as he stared down Victor, timing his attack.

"What's this about, Jimmy? Still can't let shit go can 'ya?" Victor drawled, eyeing his brother, waiting for the pounce.

Logan responded with a snarl, jumping, barreling toward Victor, claws extended toward his throat. Victor dodged, catching a claw through the shoulder as both men fell to the floor and began slashing and growling.

Hearing crashes and shouting coming from her room while she was still a ways down the hall, Ororo's heart dropped.

She wasn't the only one to hear the calamitous noise. Little faces peeked out of their rooms and soon Scott, Xavier, Remy and Jean appeared in the hallway, hot on her heels, heading quickly in the same direction.

"Back to your rooms—don't come out until we tell you to!" Scott shouted behind him. Doors slammed in quick succession.

In front of Ororo's room, they had to jump quickly out of the way as Logan's body barreled through the air and into a wall.

He hit with a thud— leaving a gaping hole as testament to the impact, before jumping back up and charging Victor—who was stumbling to his feet, his chest heaving, his black shirt gleaming with blood.

It happened so fast, she couldn't really determine who was doing what.

Before either Victor or Logan could throw another claw or fist at the other, they were physically separated.

Scott and Remy and Jean held Logan while she and the Professor went for Victor. His pupils, once a vivid bright blue, were dark and dilated, his fangs elongated, claws fully extended. He was snarling—angry.

She got right up in his face, forcing him to look at her and away from Logan, who was cussing at Remy and Scott, trying to break free of their grip while Jean worked to calm him.

"Victor, look at me. Please."

Finally she caught his attention and he gripped her hard on the arm while the gash in his side began to knit itself back together under his torn shirt.

"Will someone explain what is going on here?" The Professor's calm but commanding tone silenced the din of voices in the room.

"Why don't you ask him-" Logan spat, shooting a hate-filled glance at Victor, who had Ororo tucked under his arm.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about." Vic growled, his voice cutting off abruptly into a slight wince as yet another of the many gashes on his chest started pulling itself back together.

"Oh yeah? Then explain the bruises on 'Ro's wrist. Why the fuck are her lips swollen? Why'd you bite her so hard on the back of her neck? And you don't know _why…"_

It came out as a sneer and all of a sudden Ororo found all eyes in the room on _her_.

Jean came up to her side and pulled up her sleeve.

Ro snatched her arm back as if her friend's touch had burned.

Before Victor could speak, she did.

"He didn't hit me, if that's what you all are thinking. And Logan, you don't have to defend my honor! You were so focused on punishing Victor that you didn't even listen to what I was trying to tell you before you ran off and started a fight. I cannot _believe _you right now! You jumped to the wrong conclusion—so dedicated to believing the worst when you can't even see past your own hatred.

All of you. GET. OUT. NOW."

She was fuming. Never had she been madder. It was an anger mixed with frustration and embarrassment, though she knew she had nothing to apologize for or to be ashamed of.

Enlightenment began dawning on the faces around her, with Logan looking away from her and Scott and Remy averting their eyes. Jean's face began to flush as they started backing out of the room, leaving her, Victor and the Professor alone.

She ignored Charles, and went to Victor, who was sitting on the end of the bed, eyes closed and still. She reached out a hand to touch his face, when he opened his eyes and reached out to gather her in by the waist, pulling her into his lap and into a kiss.

When he finally let her up for air, he stood up and rolled his body into a long stretch. It reminded Ororo of how the lions looked after waking.

"I've overstayed my welcome," he said, turning away from her to reach for the duffle bag that lay abandoned in a corner.

"Victor -"

"Gotta go, 'Ro. You know damn well I can't stay. I got things 'ta tend to." He put the long strap around his chest so the duffle was on his back.

The Professor's voice broke their interlude.

"Victor, we can help you find your answers."

"No thanks, Doc. If you didn't notice, your attempt at _help -" _He cast a quick glance around Ororo's now-destroyed bedroom"-didn't turn out so well."

He turned, and before either one of them could stop him, jumped out of the window and landed on the ground five floors below. Ro watched Victor take off, running into the woods on all fours, watching until he disappeared among the trees.

"Ororo…"

The trees began to blur, forming hazy shapes and blending with the blue of the sky. The world resembled a watercolor at the moment as she stood, stoic and silent, staring out at the swirl of colors in the distance.

"What is meant to be, will be. It cannot come through force or the power of your will … no matter how badly it is desired. You know that. He has to find his own way. And perhaps, one day, that way will lead back to you."

Xavier's words gave her no comfort. She remained silent, refusing to acknowledge them. Instead, she stood still as a statue, refusing to turn away from the still-open window to look around her.

The Professor closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh of resignation before leaving her, maneuvering his wheelchair around the splintered wood of ruined chairs, the exploding insides of what used to be a couch, and the blood-stained, splinters of broken glass. He was at the door when he first heard it, and for the first time, he was at a loss for what to do.

To Xavier's ears, Ororo's dry, bitter chuckle was far, far worse than the tears she refused to let fall.

**. **

**.**

_He'd been moving constantly for two weeks, getting as far away from the mansion and from the memories as he could. _

_After taking off into the woods, he'd stayed among the trees, continually heading North until he'd come to the interstate, where he'd taken a stop at a rest area to get his bearings, about 200 miles South of the Canadian border._

_His path suited him fine. Start back from square one then work it out from there._

_There was plenty of cover in the trees, and he was able to navigate best when it was just him and nature. No people. The woods gave him a sense of comfort he seldom had, the damp smell in the morning, the decay of the leaves, the air so fresh. It allowed his over-stimulated senses to rest in comfort. Victor continued his pace, stopping only for a quick meal of something he'd caught—often times fish or rabbit or other small game._

_It was dark now, the moon only beginning to show itself over the canopy, its light spilling into the leaf-strewn floor below. _

_He'd set up camp by a river for the night, enjoying the sounds of solitude and the occasional shout from a predator that had just found its prey. The night sounds. He was just beginning to doze when something tweaked at his sensitive ears. Silence. An unnatural quiet. The hair on the back of his neck began to rise and he rose, crouching low on all fours as he sniffed the air, having caught a whiff of something not native to the area…_

_Even the crickets had stopped their incessant chirping, and as his pupils dilated to take in what little light there was, his claws began to unsheathe themselves, growing longer, and more deadly as they dug into the earth under his hands, and he snarled into the night, the moon glinting off sharpened fangs. _

_There was something here, his instincts told him, though his eyes and hearing revealed nothing. He waited. Something would give itself away…he was patient._

_A snapping sound to his left was his cue to pounce and he went for it folding his body down then launching himself toward the sound._

_It was a mistake._

_He collided with something cold and metallic and instantly the world around him lit up in an artificial glow, the lights so bright they blinded him. _

_Instantly his body was on fire from the inside, and he was paralyzed as a beam of light shot down from the sky. It felt like a million needles trying to push their way out of his skin and all he could do was howl._

"_Welcome back, Sabertooth."_

_Part of the light he was surrounded in began to pulse and darken until he could barely make out the shape of a human figure—but not human. He was grinding his teeth together in an effort to silence himself when another burst of pain shot through him, causing yet another scream._

_The voice, floating from somewhere above him began to laugh, the sound echoing all around as more and more voices joined it._

"_We've found you, again. And this time, you shall stay with us."_

_It was only a matter of time until his healing betrayed him, and the flesh began to rip from the bone. He screamed into the night, as the laughter continued. And he screamed until the world faded to black._

**-[END PART I]-**

* * *

_***Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who has taken the time out to read and review. This is the ending of the first part of this story, but it isn't over yet. I am looking to have the first chapter of Book 2 posted somewhere in the first week of May. If you are interested in reading further, please bookmark or make a note so that you'll be informed when the story is updated again. Please feel free to comment and critique- is something o/c? Let me know. This is an A/U story, but I am working it around the movie- versions of the characters._


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